Bloodlines
by Ruse
Summary: Lord of the Rings and Mummy Crossover. The mischief of a Hobbit leads to the exchange of two sons of Numenor. Aragorn and...Rick O'Connell? FINISHED
1. Fool of a Took!

**Bloodlines**  
Fool of a Took!

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

The personal study of Elrond was massive for what Merry thought would be just a small den inside a bedroom. Not that any of the rooms here in Rivendell were what _he_ would have termed 'small', but he had never seen so many books in his life—except in the more public library of this city of Elves, that is. _He must really enjoy reading, _he thought, taking a bite into his apple as he flipped through a book written in Elvish.

Okay, so they weren't supposed to be here in the Lord of Rivendell's personal quarters, but the way Pippin figured it, if they got caught, they would just say they couldn't find any books written in Common in the other library—which would be a total lie, but Elves were immensely understanding after all—and well, they didn't think there would be any harm in just browsing the study. After all, they really wanted to expand their horizons and learn about things outside the Shire. That was partly truthful…it was curiosity that drove them in here.

Many of the rooms had already been plundered by the two restless Hobbits, who had gotten a pretty stern warning from Sam that prying into things which they oughtn't would get them into big trouble, but trouble never stopped them from exploring anything. They had explored already some of the more forbidden rooms, such as Aragorn's and his stuff wasn't all that much to look at, really. A few hidden weapons, some books and clothes. Nothing really and truly interesting or out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing magical. Pippin had, after that, suggested they move onto Lady Arwen's, but for the sake of propriety Sam had convinced them otherwise. That kind of disappointed Pippin, too, who had taken a bit of a shine to the pretty Elvish lady.

So in compromise they had come here. Slinking through the halls on a quest more important and far more dangerous than getting the Ring to Rivendell had been, Merry and Pippin had stole away into Lord Elrond's private chambers on the chance they might find something extraordinary. After all, this Elf _was_ nearly seven thousand years old. Surely in all that time he would have acquired something of magnificence. All they were going to do was look, anyway, so why should anyone get upset?

The sound of a drawer opening and closing issued from Elrond's bedroom and Merry looked up in time to see Pippin bound out with a silver circlet tangled in his golden hair, an expensive ring on his hand and a grin plastered over his features. "Pip, what's got into you?" he hissed with a glance at the door. "I thought we agreed not to let this get out of hand."

Pippin drew himself up regally and waved a finger. "That's _Lord_ Pip to you and anyway, what do you think you're doing, thumbing through his books, getting apple juice all over them no less?"

"I'm not getting juice on them," Merry defended, biting his apple and quickly wiping a wet hand across his thigh. Reclaiming the fruit to his fingers, he chewed and waved it at his cousin. "Go put that back before someone catches you. I wouldn't blame him at all if he locked you in the dungeon."

Pippin crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe leading to the bedroom in blatant defiance. "Rivendell doesn't have a dungeon," he replied, but his voice wasn't completely convinced.

Merry grinned inwardly and looked up with the utmost of gravity in his expression as he widened his eyes and peered around conspiringly. He motioned Pippin closer and scooted forward on the table he was perched upon. With the faintest hint of excitement in his voice, devious Meriadoc Brandybuck leaned into his cousin and whispered, "Actually, they do."

The other Hobbit's eyes widened in curiousity. "Really?

Playing it up for all it was worth, Merry nodded knowingly and took a nonchalant bite out of his apple. "Yes. See, I was sneaking around yesterday while you and Sam were visiting with Frodo…how is he feeling, by the way?"

"Fine, fine," Pippin answered impatiently, circling his hand and looking at his cousin expectantly. "So, what happened?"

Merry took another bite. "Hmm? What happened when?" He concealed a wicked grin behind forgetful eyes.

Pip rolled his eyes largely and grabbed Merry's arm, pinching it quite hard as he hissed, "The other day…you were sneaking around? And?"

Rubbing his now sore arm, Brandybuck shoved Pippin's offending hand off his arm and shook his head. His crafted expression grew hurt. "Never mind, then, if you're going to get violent."

The look on Pippin's face was worth at _least_ a basket of mushrooms. Sulkily, he drooped his shoulders and pleaded, "Come on, Merry. Tell me what you saw."

Ever the long-suffering of the two, Merry drew up and decided to be merciful. After all, the young Took was family. "All right, I'll tell you," he gave in, taking another bite and winning himself a dirty, impatient glare. "So anyway, where was I?"

"Merry!" Pippin exclaimed, his fingers making ready to pinch again.

Merry slapped at the approaching fingers and groaned, "All right! All right! I was sneaking around and heard Gandalf and Elrond talking."

The flat-faced Took cocked his head. "So?"

Pursing his lips with a gleam in his blue eyes, Merry looked away and back again. "_So_? So, Elrond said there's a big, huge, nasty Orc in the dungeon!"

"You're such a liar!" Pippin accused, shoving his cousin dangerously close to the side of the table. Gripping the book and trying to maintain balance, Merry bit into his apple and grabbed Pip's ear to twist, making Took yelp in pain amidst insults. "Orc indeed!"

Slapping Pip over the head instead, Merry scooted closer in and huffed, "There _is_ an Orc down there. I know because Elrond wanted to feed you to it for breaking his vase the other day."

"Oh, yeah," Pippin replied sarcastically, straightening his clothes out. "And where would the door to this so-called dungeon be, Mr. Know-it-all? Hmm?"

Merry took another bite and went back to reading. "How should I know? Get that silly thing off your head! And that ring you got on your finger looks rather important, too."

The other Hobbit raised his nose and wandered over to another set of books. "It just so happens I like them, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it." Merry shook his head as Pippin pulled out a black book from the case. Dusting if off and opening it, he started to browse through the pages absently with an expression Brandybuck recognized well. Pippin was trying deliberately to get on his nerves.

To that he took yet another bite, making sure to slurp extra loudly as he laboriously turned another page in his own book. Pippin paid no mind, hauling his read to the table and plopping it down roughly. He let out a delightful sigh and started humming as he looked through the large, leather bound book before him. Merry slit his eyes and coughed rather loudly. His cousin smiled sweetly and patted him on the arm, saying, "Maybe Lord Elrond should have a look at you. Wouldn't want that cough getting any worse, now would we, cousin?"

Merry said nothing and coughed again, deliberately forcing it to sound harsh and fake. If Pippin thought anything of it, he didn't show it. He smiled, finding a particularly colorful page and began reading words written in Common aloud. Brandybuck made a fist to clobber his unsuspecting cousin, but quite suddenly something happened they did not expect. The entrance to the grand bedrooms of Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell and one of the wisest Elves to walk Middle-earth, opened and in came the Wood-Elf Legolas they had been introduced to just earlier.

The Elf stopped with wide eyes, likely shocked at seeing Elrond's room invaded (but then again, what exactly was _he_ doing here without Elrond?) and opened his mouth to speak as another form stepped in beside with an equally surprised expression. Strider. Pippin, not having realized anyone had entered the room, kept on reading as if for the world he had complete liberty to do so. When he finished and looked up, his hand went for the silver circlet adorning his head, but both cousins stopped the apologies on their tongues as the room lit up.

"Mer…" Aragorn began, but couldn't finish his sentence. In a flash of light brighter than Bilbo's birthday cake had been—which was considerable, given that it had eleventy-one candles on it—the Man and the Elf just disappeared. Gone. Poof. Nothing left.

Which quickly became untrue, much to the alarm of the two guilty sneaks and the now visible, irritated Elf Lord who stood in the hall and stared at the empty spot in alarm. The air resonated with a strange hum and another flash later Legolas and Aragorn returned—or didn't. Two men appeared rightly enough, but they weren't at all familiar. One was fair, with shining blue eyes, a clean-shaven face and sandy hair and the other man was darkly clad, with black hair and black eyes and a marked face. "Okay, what the hell was that?" breathed the fair colored one, looking around the room in alarm.

The darker one reached a tentative hand out and brushed his tanned fingers along the doorframe. "I do not know."

When the two strangers locked eyes on the Hobbits, Merry gulped and elbowed his cousin with eyes as large as saucers. This was bad. Very, _very_ bad. Images of a large wooden staff swinging in their direction filtered through the Hobbit's mind as Pippin clutched his wrist fearfully. Only one thing could be said; one phrase to impart some sort of comfort to the frightened Hobbit at his side. "Gandalf's gonna _kill_ you!"

But they had someone else to worry about right at the moment. From behind the two men came another. Bidding his two guests apart, Lord Elrond entered his not-so-private personal study with a very stern expression. Merry blanched and poor Pippin dropped the book he was holding, taking a step back from the glare boring down on him. "I didn't do it!" he exclaimed and Merry coughed nervously. The Hobbit amended his story and handed the Half-Elf's ring and circlet over—which were taken quickly. "Well, sorta. I did. A little, maybe."

Elrond's eyebrow rose as he nodded, keeping a patient but steely gaze on the Hobbit as he bent and retrieved his fallen book. "Indeed?"

Merry had to give his cousin credit for guts, if not for a quick wit. He had to laugh when Pippin spoke again. "You're not going to feed me to your Orc, are you?" At first Elrond appeared bewildered at that question, but after seven thousand years of knowledge and a wink from Merry, caught on rather quickly.

The Elven Lord dusted his black book off and spared Pippin one last look before turning to greet the newcomers. "I shall have to think long on that, Master Pippin. Ask me again at dinner tonight."

The two strangers, at a loss during this conversation, apparently had caught one word of interest. A word they both repeated simultaneously in the same tone of disbelief. "Orc?"

Merry smiled brightly and kicked his legs back and forth, enjoying a good joke while it lasted.

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended unless it involves me getting a romp with Ardeth and/or Aragorn and/or Elrond and/or Imhotep. ;-D  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**: I know…I know. Nuts. ;-) I'm bound and determined to wed my two favorite fandoms…lol. ;-D Anyway, since Middle-earth is supposedly a fantastical pre-history to our own world, I thought this might work. This is about the only plausible way I could imagine readily at the moment of inspiration to drag Ricky and Ardeth to Middle-earth and stuff Aragorn and Legolas into Egypt (which I'll explain later in more detail). Lol. I'm not sure whether I want this to be during TM or TMR… I just don't know. What do you think?

And yes…I'll finish my Buffy/Mummy X-over someday…lol. I just got the LOTR bug.

**Reviewers**: Thanks to all who read/review my other stories…I hope this meets you well. And thanks to new readers! :-D


	2. Many Meetings

**A Matter of When**  
As If The Walking Dead Wasn't Enough

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

When she had taken that tumble down the trap door something inside had warned Evelyn that she was headed straight for trouble. As if those scarabs weren't enough to worry about, she was most certain that Hamunaptra was likely filling with those robed terrors that had visited them last night and to tell the truth, she wasn't quite sure which would be worse to meet in a dark hallway.

When she had lain eyes on Burns, had seen the damage done to his eyes and tongue…then she knew she had wandered into something particularly sinister. Who would do something so torturous and terrible to another living being? Had those desert warriors done this in retribution for whatever she had done when she read from the book? There were many tales about desert tribes—the Song-Hoi for example—who took pleasure in hurting people for entertainment. Were those black-clad men Song-Hoi?

Of course none of her previous fears had prepared her for this and when the single-handedly most frightening vision she had encountered stepped from the shadows, she did the only thing that came to mind. She screamed. Perhaps that hadn't been a particularly helpful action, but it did relieve some of the tension. Unfortunately that tension was replaced almost as soon as it was eased. Backing away, Evelyn noticed movement out of the corner of her vision, but just couldn't seem to tear her eyes off this walking impossibility coming after her. But the sounds told her enough. Burns had fallen and was crawling away. Leaving her alone to die with this…this thing.

"Please help me," she prayed in unnerved tones and the creature followed her glances to Burns, then turned back. Surely she had bumped her head in that fall and was now hallucinating. That could be the only explanation. Dead things did not walk—not unless Jonathan was having himself a good joke. This wasn't really his style. "Please don't leave me."

Unimpressed with Burns' rescue, the creature turned back and opened his mouth—presumably to bite her so she thought, but when he spoke it did little to calm her fears. "Ancksunamun?" it rattled in unsavory, otherworldly tones. Those stolen eyes stared back in fascination as it closed in predatorily, as if she were some prize to be had. Evy's back hit the wall and a well of fear sprang up, sending ice-cold torrents of fear through her veins. A hand stretched towards her, beckoning her to come. "Kadeesh mi pharos, Ancksunamun."**1**

Evy shivered as it waited, then lowered that gnarled, decayed hand with cool eyes. Those eyes were remarkably animated, bringing life to a thing that likely hadn't seen such glory in millennia. Another few steps brought the monster right before her and his fingers tangled into her hair, causing her to wince at the thought of papery flesh being left behind on her. It leaned close and caged her to the wall, filling her nose with the fetid scent of death. 

"Evy!" A voice rang through the air, saving her from whatever terrible thing this being was planning to do to her. "Evy, where the devil are you?"

Shivering quite uncontrollably, she shouted, "In here, Jonathan! Help me!" One of those dead hands curled around her shoulder, yanking her closer as the bones of its neck creaked, turning towards the voice. Light filled the dim chamber and Evy pulled away long enough to see her brother, two Americans and—_not O'Connell_—enter. A dark-haired stranger, tall and gazing on her with glinting blue eyes not unlike the ex-Legionnaire's. Where had he come from?

"Oh my god," Jonathan breathed, watching his sister behind man-handled by this walking corpse. He wrung his hands in fear and frustration as the creature let her go and turned towards the group. It hunched as if to pounce, leaving Evy free. Seeing an opportunity for her, he yelled, "Run!"

But this thing was a fast learner and stopped her, turning and clasping her wrist tightly. "Jonathan, think of something!" she pleaded, trying to pull herself free as it again faced the group. The Americans thought quickly enough on their feet and drew guns, pointing directly at the monster…and unfortunately her as well. Evy closed her eyes and prepared for doom. Where was O'Connell when he was needed?

A voice and the sound of a sword being drawn jarred her out of her silent prayers and Evy opened her eyes at the pleasant sound. "Face a foe that is your match, fell beast!" the stranger hissed, holding a tall blade in the offensive with an intense glare. The creature holding her laughed and ignored his threatening stance, pushing Evy towards an exit in the room.

"Jonathan!" Evelyn called, at a loss. How did one kill something that was already dead? She stumbled at another push and felt her stomach turn in fear. Whatever this thing had planned likely wasn't going to be pleasant.

Footsteps echoed in the chamber behind and the hand on her shoulder fell away, freeing her once more. Evelyn Carnahan didn't need to be told twice. Or once even. Taking that opportunity, she fled a few feet and turned, making sure she wasn't leaving her brother to certain death. What she saw made her gasp. That stranger was fighting the beast, slamming his sword into bone and flesh…and the creature wasn't falling. With a startlingly eerie scream, it flung two hands out and knocked the blue-eyed man away as if he were nothing more than a child. "Run, Evy!" her brother yelled, but how could she? They were going to die for her? This was all her fault.

There was a flutter of sounds and voices, groans and gasps and Evy stood, frozen to the spot, fearful that Jonathan would never meet her vision again. Covering her lips, she listened in horror and tried to calm the feelings rushing through her. "My sister! Help my sister!" she heard Jonathan cry out in a clearly pained voice and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, as they say. She took a few steps forward to help her brother or die trying.

A shadow stopped her and a form raced into the hallway. The stranger ran towards her with urgent eyes and blood dripping from a cut on his cheek. He said nothing as he moved to walk by her and for a split second she thought he meant to leave her, but he didn't. A hand curled around her arm and forced her to follow his quick pace. "Where is the exit to this place?" he asked softly, trying to steady her fearful expression with calm tones.

"M-my brother," she stammered, following anyway. To tell the truth Evy felt too shaken to be forceful about anything just now, but Jonathan's face kept flitting back to her mind.

The stranger shook his head and tightened his grip as if to be sure she wouldn't turn and flee. "I will get you to safety as he bid me do, my lady. Then I will return for him _alone_. But you must lead us from here, for I do not know the way."

Fighting the urge to ask him how he got into Hamunaptra in the first place, she lifted a hand and pointed in the direction she assumed was at least somewhat correct and let him do the leading. At least that way it seemed somehow she wasn't choosing to leave Jonathan behind…that she was being made to. It didn't work for very long. Where was O'Connell, anyway? Had he too been left somewhere in Hamunaptra to die?

When they finally reached the upper level the night air beckoned sweetly from outside, hitting them with the cool of an Egyptian breeze. Sand and the sound of voices filtered through the entrance, filling her with dread. They spoke Arabic and sounded lightly perturbed. Was O'Connell out there causing trouble?

Breaking into the night air, Evelyn came to a halt right outside the entrance, causing the stranger to bump into her back and push her forward slightly. But then he stilled at the sight laid out before them. Ten tribesmen stood with weapons drawn and death-glares aimed at another man. Another stranger, even odder in appearance than this man who had saved her. Long blonde hair blanketed his shoulders softly and an arrow strung up in a bow focused on a single man, who held the Egyptologist captive. Her eyes lingered on him a moment as she wondered where they had come from and why his intense stare made her shiver. This one had a western look about him as well, but was certainly like nothing she had ever seen before. He was beautiful.

"Aragorn!" he called out in an English sounding accent, his dark blue eyes darting between the man beside her and his enemies. His words were musical and spoken in a language she had never heard before. "Thia in Rhevain dammen maethar aen!"**2**

One of the desert warriors shifted on his feet, hissing, "Silence yourself if you cannot speak in a language we all understand, western dog!" Evy narrowed her eyes at the offending robed figure, having already taken a disliking to their kind.

The blonde's vigilance did not waver, though he was injured. The blood on his forearm came finally to her notice and Evy marveled at his will to ignore it and hold his bow ready to kill. "You would do well to mind your sword if you would not have my arrow pierce your flesh!" he retorted hotly, never breaking eye contact.

From beside her the raven-haired stranger took a step with outward stretched hands as he faced the warriors. "I assure you we do not come as enemies. Can we not talk in peace? We need not end this disagreement bitterly."

The warrior holding Dr. Chamberlin brought his eyes away from the bow-wielding stranger and met those of the speaker. "I am called Naseen of the Med-Jai and I want to know where you and this fair-haired whelp came from and more importantly, what you have done with our captain." Evy narrowed her brow at that, wondering again where Rick was.

Still holding his hands free, the man replied, "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and my friend is of Mirkwood. I know not what befell your captain."

"Do you lie?" the dark warrior seemed to ask and seemed to assume all at once. This Aragorn made no reply to that. Naseen sheathed his drawn scimitar and shoved the Egyptologist to the sand. "All will be found out in time, I assure you. Until that time I think you should surrender your weapons and take camp with my men." He cocked his head and waited for defiance.

Aragorn nodded to his friend and called, "Legolas," in a tone that conveyed his want.

"Aragorn, I do not agree this is wise," he answered, still holding his weapon drawn. "They attacked on sight."

The stranger shook his head. "We are outnumbered, Legolas. There are innocent people dying with our idle talk." The tone was firm, but not demanding. It was enough to make his friend lower his bow, if reluctantly. A Med-Jai quickly stripped him of that and two swords at his back. Naseen came closer and held his hand out, causing Aragorn to tense. "I give my word I will not use this weapon against you or your men, but I will surrender Anduril to no other hand."

With a sneer Naseen put a hand to his hilt and instantly another two Med-Jai were at Legolas' back, keeping him from aiding his friend. "What was this talk of idle chatter and innocent lives?" he said, throwing Aragorn's words back at him.

Evy saw steel in those storm-colored eyes as the stranger held the Med-Jai's glare. "I gave my promise to this lady that I would return and save her brother. To beat the foe in that dark place I will need my sword. Will you send me to my task unarmed?"

The smile written across the face of the dark warrior before them was cynical as he took his hand from his scimitar. "If you left people behind, they are dead. I assure you of that. We have a struggle before us, thanks to your friends here." Evy backed away when his glare turned on her. "Who read from the book?"

Her brow furrowed as he looked her over completely, then met her eyes again. The frown on her lips increased. "I read from it! What harm ever came from reading a book? And if you knew this could happen, why didn't you just tell us instead of behaving like animals?" She crossed her arms, trying not to let her fear and sorrow for Jonathan overwhelm her.

The quick-tongued reply had given her pride a little satisfaction, but it rapidly faded when the warrior raised his hand to her. She didn't even have time to think before it fell, but instead of being knocked to the ground, she found another hand in front of her face. Aragorn grasped Naseen's wrist and shook his head, warning, "That would be most unwise."

With an assessing stare, Naseen ripped his arm back and nodded, then turned to the Med-Jai. "Take them out to the riders and report back here."

Evy shook her head and fumed at the dismissal of Jonathan's life. "My brother! I won't leave my brother!"

"Your brother is dead," the hardened warrior answered in a tone of finality. "I will look for him, but don't count on his being brought back whole. In the meantime, you and your friends here have some questions to answer and we have a mess to try and clean up." He said the last with a sneer as he stalked by.

Another Med-Jai stepped from the towering group of dark warriors and addressed both Evy and Aragorn as the Med-Jai forced the other two along. She caught the blonde giving Aragorn an uncertain look, to which the kind stranger lifted a forestalling hand. "Well, I never!" she huffed, looking into the face of this new warrior. "Of all the rude, boorish and unsavory types. What gives you men the right to push innocent people around, anyway? My brother is as good as dead because of all the time we wasted!" Evy shuddered inwardly at the images playing through her mind. Jonathan dead, O'Connell gone and now this? Where did the tragedies end? And it was all her fault, too.

The Med-Jai caught her nerves and looked down on her softly, his black hair shifting in the breeze, free of a protective cover. "Three thousand years of history and tradition gives us the right and harsh-spoken or not, Naseen is probably right about your brother's fate. I am Salih and I apologize for my brother's 'boorish' behavior. He is an ass who has his eyes on a captaincy that will never be his. I won't let him harm you." He turned his head then to the other man, who watched after his companion in concern. "Your friend could be in a lot of danger. Our captain has disappeared and the blonde was found where he had stood. I recognize in you something of honor, I think. If your friend has caused harm to come to Ardeth, he won't live very long." There was something that wanted to be friendly in those words, but also a warning and a probing for truth.

Whatever he was seeking, however, was not to be found. A dangerous glint of blue flashed through the eyes of this Aragorn, but he too remained peaceful. "I know not what has happened to any of us, but I know this; my friend is a formidable foe. Punishment given where it is not earned will result in losses perhaps on both sides. My blade was made for the blood of Orcs and evil things, not for that of Men, but I will come to his aid."

Both Evy and Salih rewarded such words with confused, dubious expressions. _Orcs?_ Why on earth would someone use a reference like that? Salih shook his head and turned, motioning them on and for the moment all they could do was follow. Evelyn exhaled, resigned to thoughts other than worry, and swallowed as she gave him an odd look. "Excuse me, ah…Aragorn, was it? Did…did you say Orcs?" He nodded with equal disorientation. "And these Orcs, they were real, were they?"

"Of course they were real." His wan smile was amused at this line of questioning. A kind expression, it was. Like O'Connell's, when he wasn't leering or being sarcastic. "Do you not believe I am fit to handle their like?"

Evy returned the smile, conscious that Salih was listening to everything that was said—and likely deeming her new friend a little crazy. Not that she herself wasn't beginning to think that as well, but he seemed nice enough that she would hate to see him harmed. "Well, it's not that I…I mean I'm sure you're perfectly capable, but… Are you quite sure you didn't hit your head at some point while wandering around Hamunaptra?"

Aragorn laughed a little at that, clasping his hands in front of him as they headed over a dune by the Med-Jai's lead. "I suppose that may be possible. Are Orcs uncommon in this part of the world?"

Uncommon wasn't exactly the word she would use, but the remembrance of what she had just escaped warned her not to totally discount anything anymore. Maybe he had seen Imhotep and was trying to brag on having beaten others of his like? He didn't seem the boastful type, though. Evy shook her head. "Not common, no. How did you arrive here, anyway?"

It was his turn to shake his head and his crystal eyes softened sympathetically. "I do not know. I became dizzy in my home and suddenly found myself in the dark tunnels of this evil place. Your brother and the ones with him, they marveled at my appearance and said there was light, but I did not see it. There was a sound trailing us and without exchanging greetings I was led away, hearing mutters of your name and the name of another who seemed to be absent."

"O'Connell?" Evy supplied, a little startled by this strange and highly dubious tale.

Aragorn nodded sadly. "Alas, I do not know what befell him or this captain they speak of, but I do regret not returning for your brother before we left the darkness. Even his name I knew not before entering the fray with that foul creature. I am truly sorry, my lady. What was his name?"

Hugging into herself and trying to fight new grief, Evelyn looked away and almost let those tears spill when the stranger's hand touched her shoulder. How could he be dead? It was as impossible as that monster stalking the deep of Hamunaptra. He _would_ return to her.

"Jonathan."

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**: Okay. I'm sticking a wee amount of Elvish in here for the sake of…well, doing it. ;-) Some things I wasn't too sure about…I'm taking my guesses from two different sources and how I think the words are being used. Such as "maethar aen". I read "prestar aen" (I amar prestar aen – The world is changed) and "beriathar aen"(dammen beriathar aen – will be held against us)which was used in the FOTR movie as meaning: **prestar aen**_v. pass. _'is changed'; cf. **presta-** 'affect, trouble' and **aen** 'they' (**beriathar aen** _v. fut. passive _'will be guarded, will be held'; **beria- **'protect'.) and in seeing that I took the usage of **maetha-** 'to fight' and used it in much the same way.

At any rate, die-hards who are cringing, don't worry…I won't do it often. Just for secret talk. ;-) 

and are my resources. 

**Translations**:

1. "Come with me my princess, Ancksunamun." – Hmmm…I think so, anyway…something like that…I don't remember. I don't think The Mummy's Egyptian was all that accurate, anyway. :-O

2. "It appears these wild men [mean] to fight against us!" Lit. **Thia** 'it appears' **in** 'these' **rhevain** 'wild men (probably from Rhovanion)' **dammen** '_dan_ against + _men_ us **maethar aen** 'they will fight'

**Reviewers**:

**Mommints** – Oooh…excellent!! I hope you do write that scene up! Would be excellent! There can never be too many LOTR/Mummy stories in my opinion…two excellent fandoms with LOTS of hot guys…what could possibly go wrong with that? ;-) Thanks!

**Anya** – Thanks! Hehehe…I hope we can expect more LOTR/Mummy crossovers, too. I know of at least two friends who are thinking of it…and I urge them both to do so. ;-) Me glad you like!

**Narya's Bane** – Thanks for the review! I hope this met your reading well. :-)

**Missy** – Well, you're probably right that perhaps I made Rondy a bit too easy going…but I didn't want him all freaking out either, cause I assume Elves have a larger stock of patience than say Gandalf may have. To make up for it I could make him a bit ironic and irritated in the next chapter. ;-) As for Evy…boy, I don't know…I'd be hard pressed, especially since the point of The Mummy I chose to make the other side of the coin face is so early in their meeting. Who could resist those blue eyes of theirs? ;-) Not I! Thanks…I'm glad you enjoyed despite Elrond. ;-)

**Kessele** – Thanks! I hope I still have it! ;-)

**Karri** – Too true…say, why don't you do a LOTR/Mummy crossover too? ;-) I bet you'd do great, I love your stories!!! Thank ya for the feedback!

**Sparkle Weaver** – Thankie! I'm glad you enjoyed! I would have had this out sooner, but I realized I based the original chapter on something wrong, so had to re-write lots of it. Doh!

**O'Connell's Mummy Girl** – Thanks for the compliment and yeah…Ricky and Legolas…mmm…nice combo! ;-)

**Deana** – Erm…sorry? Hehehe. Well, see I had just begun it a few nights before posting…so, it never came up? :-O Forgive me! ;-)

**Deb** – Hey! Thanks for the review! I would certainly like to see your LOTR/Mummy crossover, if you ever indeed decide to do one. There are so many possibilities out there and I'd just love to read them all! Aragorn and Ardeth would be awesome fighting together! Thank you so much for your high compliments…I'm glad I'm doing something rightish and not being too predicable. :-) Sometimes I wonder if I am…lol. So it's nice to hear people don't think I am. :-)

**Marcher** – Hehe! Crazed friends think alike, eh? I say go for it…I'd love to read what you come up with…it's fun to write and get the feedback, but I'd also like to read someone else's interpretation of crossing over and you'd do so well and add Boromir, the hottie. ;-) Maybe you could even break Rondy's armor and sword out of mothballs! ;-) Thank you muchly for the review, mellon nin! Glad you like! 


	3. The Post Council Quest Revision of Elron...

**A Matter of When**  
The Post-Council Quest Revision Of Elrond

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

The air was refreshing, cool, pleasant and unlike anything to be found in Egypt. Pampered and refined was this place, a place where all of one's needs would be taken care of at but a beckon. A truly western place to live, indeed. Far away from the dangers and troubles of the desert. Far from all they needed protection from. Rivendell, he had been told this place was called. Egypt, they had never heard of, nor England or the United States for that matter. And he and the American had never heard of the places this dark-haired, English seeming host had named off. At first neither had been able to accept the other's ignorance of the world, over talk a slow trust had begun to build. Apparently he himself caused more alarm than the American in his appearance, but this Elrond seemed now able to believe he was of a fair kind, rather than a so-called 'dark servant'.

Seated on a plush, silken-covered couch, Ardeth Bay took in his surroundings with the eyes of a warrior. Everything, every sight and sensation he catalogued for future reference. These strangers seemed nice enough, but appearances can sometimes be deceiving. There was a tenseness here that was kept in the shadows, but breathed caution into the Med-Jai's mindset. Strange enough was the appearance of these two men from another world, but he got the feeling something else may have been going on before their arrival.

Beside him lounged the American, also watching and listening, though his expression to any other may have appeared nonchalant. But Ardeth knew what to look for in a fellow fighter. A few years ago he thought most westerners were softened and lacked the skills needed to survive in the desert, but this man proved him wrong—this man and his other American cohorts, who had managed not only to get past the Med-Jai into the forbidden city, but also to awaken He Who Shall Not Be Named. He was someone to be kept under close watch.

Across the room stood two men conversing. One was an elderly gentleman, who wore strange clothes and carried a staff. His pointed hat made Ardeth smirk inwardly. This was another trait among westerners—eccentricity. The other was their host, Elrond he named himself and seemed to possess wisdom about him. He was kind and patient, and had not fed the small person to the rumored Orc in the basement.

These little people, now that he was having trouble figuring out. They looked like children in size, but bore the faces and voices of men. And they had big, bare, hairy feet. The two whose names were on the lips of the taller men sat perched upon a windowsill with nervous expressions written across their faces. They spoke in hushed tones and shrank back whenever the older man ventured to look in their way. Ardeth could see the old man had no real intention of hitting either with his great staff, but appreciated the point in the threat that came every so often, unspoken but conveyed through meaningful glances. Perhaps the legend of quickly delivered swats would keep those two out of trouble.

"The original book is older than I, but it has been altered throughout the years," Elrond spoke in a weary voice, eyeing the item in question. It sat upon a desk in imagined defiance, proclaiming almost that it would not be understood by any. The host walked with a deliberate grace to the book and touched its surface. A sigh escaped his lips. "My brother Elros used to keep it, though to him and up until now to I as well, it was nothing more than a book of poetry and tales of old. It is an ancient relic of Numenor, old writings of the heroes and leaders, both before my brother became their first king and after, even until the death of Elendil. There the writings stopped with the passage read by Master Took." Ardeth noticed the golden-haired troublemaker wince in renewed guilt.

Elrond opened the book and looked down upon the pages, making him wonder what was written there. The American beside him seemed a little doubtful about this whole affair despite the blatant truth that they were not in Egypt anymore, but Ardeth knew well the dangers that could come from reading books of power. The other one sitting beside this Pippin character…Merry? He ventured a question, taking advantage of the silence in the room. "What's it say?" he asked, echoing Ardeth's wonderings. At the other little being's expression, he added sheepishly, "I wasn't listening."

The host—who had pointed ears, the Med-Jai noticed suddenly with a frown, looked at the two with a stern expression that tried to melt away beneath understanding. "It was a passage lamenting the death of Numenor and calling all descendants of the line of kings to lift the ancient blood back to the glory it once had." His fingers brushed the text gently and there was sorrow written in his gray eyes. "Only a poem. And yet now that hope is gone with Aragorn."

Shaking his head, the American sat forward with arms elbows rested on his knees and hands clasped before him. "Gone with Aragorn? What are you saying? We can't go back?"

The old man shook his head with a thoughtful expression. "Ways are often hidden where we deem them missing. But what of our other business, Elrond? This puzzle troubles me and the loss of two such as Aragorn and Legolas is deeply saddening, but the other matter stands unfinished. That is a thing that will not afford us time to mourn. We are now missing two members of our fellowship, whose absent skill and wisdom are a sore price to pay."

"This quest begins wrong even before you have left my doorstep," Elrond mused, letting his eyes wash over the two strangers in his study. "There is no help for it, Gandalf. You must depart tomorrow as planned. Had I still my sons in my home I would have sent them in the place of those lost, but I fear I may have to look elsewhere. There is no passage in the book I can discern that would call Aragorn and Legolas back, nor do I know what brought them in the first place." His fingers toyed with a ring on his fingers as he thought through the facts given him. "This mystery eludes even me and in so dangerous a time I have little thought to spare over it."

Ardeth met the eyes of this Gandalf as he too swept over the strangers, with decidedly different interest than Elrond was displaying. The corners of his lips seemed to tilt upwards as he considered the Med-Jai, but so slightly Ardeth thought perhaps he was wrong. "Why not send these two?" he said suddenly and Elrond's expression became quite startled.

"Gandalf…" he began, bewildered and Ardeth furrowed his brow.

The old man allowed his smile to grow visible as he now turned his vision on the troubled Lord of Rivendell. "In all our years I cannot think of one time when I have seen you quite so speechless, my friend."

Elrond's surprise dimmed into a wry expression. He took a few steps away, then turned back with a shake of his head. "Need I tell you all of the reasons why what you are suggesting is madness?"

Beside Ardeth, O'Connell quipped softly, "Yeah and with the fuss he's making, I'm not so sure we'd want to get stuck doing someone else's dirty work." The American smiled almost innocently when the host frowned.

He had observed enough and kept his peace. Now Ardeth felt ready to speak, echoing his companion's thoughts—if for different reasons. He would help if he could, anyone that needed him, but there was a little quest of his own going on back in Egypt. His people were in grave danger if Imhotep again walked the earth. "I do not know what your troubles are, but back where we come from people are in danger." He turned his head and gave O'Connell a meaningful glare. "There is a walking plague about to destroy all we hold dear and if he is not stopped, the world will fall under his darkness."

For a moment the room was silent again, glances conveying different messages being shared all around, grave expressions that added a tense atmosphere to the study, until, that was, Pippin finally spoke up. "Well, now. Doesn't that sound familiar? What is it with all these dark lords, anyway? Don't they have anything better to do?" An elbow to the ribs from Merry and a long-suffering sigh from Elrond counseled him to quietness again.

Gandalf paced a little with thoughts turning, a reflection of indecision weighing on his mind. The staff went with him everywhere he went and tapped loudly against the wood floor when he set it down. "My suggestion is this, Elrond. My intuition tells me whatever force took our friends away gave us these two for a reason. Their coming is a mystery to even you, but perhaps there is one other who may shed light on this. Perhaps in the Golden Wood they may find answers. That is what my heart speaks, but I will heed your council."

"Lorien," Elrond sighed, rubbing his chin and looking out the window as if he could see this place the old man was talking about "The High Pass is surely watched by Orcs and Goblins once more. The path through Hollin is rough, but uninhabited and unknown, yet leads to passes that may be difficult to cross. All paths lead to darkness. Gandalf, I do not like this question you have put before me, but regardless, I trust your intuition. If you must take them, do so, but my advice is to leave them behind in Lothlorien and reveal nothing of the quest if it does not suit them to know."

O'Connell shook his head at this and grunted. "Okay, look. I don't know what's gotten into your water, but there's a girl back home that needs me to save her from men like this one," he threw his thumb back at Ardeth, who inhaled deeply and frowned. "_Orcs and Goblins?_ That right there tells me you people are a missing a few cards from the stack and don't get me wrong, I'm sure your little quest is very important, but why should _we_ trust _you?_"

The two on the sill winced, the old man concealed a smart little smile and the dark-haired Lord of Rivendell shared a cool, steely gaze with the outspoken American for a moment, then turned back to Gandalf with a smile of his own. Elrond stepped by, gave the old man a friendly pat on the shoulder and nodded. "You are right. I believe this is something you should handle. I think it is madness, but if you see hope in it I will trust you, Mithrandir." The two drew aside again to talk, leaving the others a moment to consider their fates.

"Great," breathed O'Connell, leaning back and looking at Ardeth with irritation written across his features. With that he could sympathize, for the need to return home was even greater than this man could imagine. The American ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "We've just been shanghaied on some Robin Hood adventure while your men run around Hamunaptra looking for blood. I wonder how Evelyn's doing."

Ardeth leaned forward on his knees and pulled his navy turban off, feeling a little commandeered himself, but there was nothing that could be done about Egypt right now, in either of their cases. There were losses on both sides, but this elderly man seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. He trusted his gut instincts and that was also something Ardeth understood. "You had better pray for her safety. I do not know what dangers you and I face, but if you succeeded in awakening He Who Shall Not Be Named, she is in immediate danger. My men will not be the cause of her death, but whoever read from that book may be the cause of theirs."

With a curse, O'Connell rubbed his face tiredly and groaned, "Yeah, I told her not to mess with that thing. Who's this He Who You're Too Scared To Name, anyway?"

The Med-Jai glared at his companion a moment, then sighed in frustration at what he could not solve now. "He is death. A walking plague that cannot be stopped by mortal weapons. My men and I saw the locusts rush upon the City of the Dead. We heard the immortal screams. For three thousand years we have stood watch over the ancient city and you and your friends have single-handedly brought our work to ruin."

The American looked at him with disbelief written in his crystal eyes. "What do you mean 'three thousand years' and 'immortal screams' and 'walking plague'? And if you say 'Goblin' I'm going to really be disappointed in your originality."

"No Goblin," Bay replied, giving a wry smile as he looked the American over. Maybe it was not a Goblin that would trouble Egypt, but the being now wandering Egypt would still draw disbelief. "Three thousand years ago there was a priest who served his pharaoh well, until one year his eyes were captured by a young girl in the palace. She was the concubine of Seti I, beautiful and prized. No man was allowed to touch her. But the priest was not a man to be bound by rules. He desired her and she him, for her hatred of her master was deep. They fell in love and soon conspired to kill Seti. They succeeded, but not without paying for their crimes. The priest was mummified and cursed, and now my people are bound to watching over him, to make sure people like you don't rouse his sleep."

With a grunt, O'Connell smirked and replied, "Good job. Mummies and Orcs, huh? I think I must have really hurt my head in Hamunaptra. I'm probably lying there, somewhere, Evelyn smacking my face and her brother drinking up all the liquor. I wish I could wake up about now."

"Unfortunately," came another voice, that belonging to Gandalf as he neared, "waking up will do you little good. Come. We have to prepare you for the journey. Do you have weapons?"

Ardeth unsheathed his scimitar and held it forth with the knowledge of how to use such a weapon confidently displayed in his gaze. Gandalf shared an approving look with Elrond, then turned to O'Connell, who reached into his double holster and pulled out two guns. "I also have one stocked away in my pant leg. I don't suppose you have any ammo for these?"

Curiously, Elrond held his hand out and took the gun given, examining it as if he had never seen anything of its like. O'Connell sat up quickly when the robed host fingered the trigger, explaining not to pull it back. "What manner of weapon is this?" he asked with an eyebrow raised as he handed it back.

O'Connell turned and pointed it at Ardeth, looking down the barrel with a grin. "It's called a gun. You shoot it. Depending on the make and where you aim, one bullet could put down an enemy. It's like a sling shot, maybe or a…mini bow and arrow, I guess."

Ardeth noticed a look pass between Gandalf and Elrond as he stood. The little troublemakers on the sill hopped down, noticing a general migration towards the door and both looked up at the Med-Jai with friendly—if wary, smiles as they passed, which he returned. "I hope you're not mad about the whole book thing," Pippin said hopefully as the warrior took the rear of the group and followed into the hall. "Totally Merry's fault. Name's Peregrin Took. Pippin for short."

The other one frowned at his friend and gave a miffed little shove, hissing, "One look at you and who do you think he'd believe?" The darker-haired little one shoved his hand into Ardeth's and shook it. "Merry Brandybuck."

"Ardeth Bay," the warrior replied with a quiet grin, watching them fuss at each other.

It seemed truly strange to him, the situations that life could toss one into. Here he was in a foreign city with a quest thrust into his lap, an oddly clad wise man, two tiny troublemakers and an American who was asking their host, "Hey, Elrond. What's wrong with your ears?"

O'Connell was right. Waking up now would be good.

~~~~~~~

Everyone called them 'The Fellowship' here in Rivendell—or 'Riven_hell_' as Rick liked to put in, at least in his own mind. Not that this was a bad place, really. Quite the opposite of what one would term hell. But such a drastic and unexpected change in locale ruffled the feathers of even a guy like him. He wasn't even sure if he were really awake or dreaming. This place certainly felt like a dream. Elves. These people actually went around claiming they were thousand-year-old Elves. O'Connell took a swig of the wine in his hand—perfect wine for a perfect house—and grunted.

He stood alone at a window just outside the 'Hall of Fire' where their host was throwing a big farewell supper for the Fellowship. A big farewell supper for him, for those he left behind in Egypt. Normally he may not have minded this trip. He was certainly treated better here than anywhere else he'd ever been. But what Bay said had bothered him. He really had taken a liking to those Carnahans—or _that_ Carnahan, to be precise. Evelyn was different than the girls he was used to carousing with. _Come on, Rick. It wasn't going to go anywhere, anyway,_ he thought with a sigh. He just hated the thought of her getting hurt and her brother wasn't one to keep an eye on her.

"Is the food not to your liking?" The voice startled him, both with its suddenness and with the soothing confidence veiled within. When he turned he wouldn't have expected to see so young a girl speaking with it. She was beautiful, looking on him with startlingly blue eyes and a serenity he had never seen on one so youthful. Her smile was soft.

He shook his head, feeling a little comforted that he wasn't alone anymore, even though that was why he had left in the first place. "No, the food's great. Never had better in my life."

She took slow, graceful steps around him, maintaining eye contact as she moved soundlessly. "Then it is the company?"

Rick leaned against the sill and watched her, feeling a little silent himself. "No." Actually, there was one place he could think of that this 'House of Elrond' reminded him of. His mind traveled back to a time when he was six and still living with his parents in Chicago. Back before he had become an orphan. Every Sunday morning they would get up, get dressed and head to mass and every other Sunday or so one of the nuns would haul him out of class for one reason or another, and take him into an unused, private chapel to sit while she prayed for what she claimed was his forgiveness for being so irreverent in God's house. Secretly he thought maybe she was just kneeling for half an hour to make him suffer, but whatever the case, he remained quiet during the prayer. His father wouldn't have tolerated anything less. It was bad enough he got into any trouble, let alone disturbing a lady during something like that.

This place reminded him of that, of the quiet in that small room and the feeling that any small sound was too harsh and disrespectful. But this girl was no elderly nun with a ruler to swat with. She was one of God's angels. "Do not carry worry for things you cannot change, Lord of Men."

He smiled at that and took a drink. "Lord of Men, huh? So, you people really think you're Elves? I don't suppose you've got a jolly leader in a red suit tucked away somewhere?" That came out a little more sarcastic than he had intended and he grimaced inwardly.

But if this kind Elf took offense, she surely did not show it. Instead, she laughed—a quiet, church laugh. "I cannot recall my grandfather ever donning the color red," she commented, coming beside him to gaze out the window. "Have you never seen an Elf before?"

Sighing, Rick turned back to view what she was viewing. Outside the setting was as peaceful and beautiful as a painting. "Where I come from Elves are stories. Fairytales. So are Orcs, Dwarves and dragons. I've never even heard of a Hobbit before." He shrugged and looked down almost apologetically. "Mythology." The sadness in her eyes was not unnoticed. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you, miss…?"

"Arwen. My name is Arwen. I am Lord Elrond's daughter." Her smile returned and her hair swayed when she shook her head. "No, my lord. I think only on these dark times. A world ruled and peopled only by Men…" Again she looked out and up, her eyes oceans of feeling and sorrow that seemed ages old. "My people are leaving these lands. Leaving Men to stand on their own. In time there will be no Elves left upon Middle-earth and I will be separated from them."

"Separated?" he asked softly, mentally kicking himself for even unknowingly bringing these thoughts to her. He didn't like seeing pain in those eyes.

Her touch surprised him and soothed him and made him feel strangely inadequate, all at the same time. A warm hand clasped his and her peace was restored. "These cares are not for you to spare worry over. Morning will dawn and with it will come the beginning of your quest. Take rest and be well."

She left him there without another word and he watched the shadows chase her back into the great hall of her father. Take rest and be well. Sound advice, only he felt very restless just now. Rick lifted the sweet wine to his lips and took a sip, wondering idly if these Elves brewed anything like beer. He assumed now that he was alone, free to brood and explore, but all too soon it proved untrue. Another form came from the Hall of Fire and this one caused him to swear beneath his breath and he conceal it with a smile. "O'Connell," the Med-Jai greeted curtly. He seemed troubled.

Raising his cup, Rick answered cheekily, "_Bay_," and took a sip. "What's the matter? They trying to squeeze you into a pair of tights?"

Bay fell in beside him and examined the view of outside. "Do you have a joke for everything?" he asked through a weary exhale, his dark eyes glittering.

Rolling his eyes and turning back to the window as he finished off his drink, O'Connell muttered, "Sorry. What flew up your…?" Rick stopped himself at the other's glare and grinned. "Sorry. Wanna talk about it?"

The warrior shook his head and returned his heavy expression to the scenery outside. But he wasn't seeing golden trees or grass or a stream. Rick knew it as well as he knew himself. They both saw sand in their vision. This man had much more than O'Connell had back home in Egypt, for while Rick had always counted Cairo a home away from the home he'd never known, it never meant much to him. Certainly not like it would to the Med-Jai beside him. Ardeth missed his home, his people and knew terrible things could happen without him being there to help. In a way, so did Rick. He would miss being there to make sure Evy was okay. Why did he care so much about her?

"Hey," he said, wanting to push that away for the time being. There were other things to discuss that would keep the demons at bay. "We're in this for the long haul it seems." Bay looked up with an unchanged, merely tolerant expression. Rick shrugged and sighed. "Look, you can be mad all you want to, but it won't change what's already happened. I think this'll go a lot easier if we lose the edge and try to be friends, okay? Whatever they're talking about sounds like it's not short on danger and we're the strangers here. So, you wanna drop the angry warrior act and concentrate on what's important?" Bay glared back at him and said nothing. "Fine, but if you get attacked by the boogie man or something else weird, don't come crying to me."

He turned away in frustration and headed towards the Hall of Fire, deciding to let the Med-Jai save his own neck if he needed. Rick had tried and that was enough. So what if Bay was stubborn? Rick had been through enough on his own not to need help. But midway down the hall the warrior stopped him, calling, "O'Connell." The ex-Legionnaire turned in exasperation, but stopped up short when he saw a small smile written on Bay's features. "Would you mind telling me exactly what a 'boogie man' is?"

Maybe this guy wouldn't be such a pain after all—much of one, anyway. O'Connell grinned and motioned him to join. "I really don't know, but I'm pretty sure we'll find out, knowing this place."

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**: Okay, I just want to apologize right here, right now, for the many many typos in that last chapter. :O Color me mortified! Bad bad habits, I have, of posting too quickly. *lesigh* So I am sowwy. I have been more careful with this one. :-D Anyway, I know this was a lot of talk…but to get the explanations across…:-/ 

**Reviewers**:


	4. Lamentations of Bloody Hell

**A Matter of When**  
Lamentations of Bloody Hell

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

She tended her fallen brother gently, with soft hands and soft-spoken words that were filled with sorrow and guilt. For this was her fault, or so she claimed. Voices could be heard outside the great tent they had been gathered in to wait whatever fate the desert warriors would deal them. One of the so-called 'Americans' had died, though he could not recall the brief telling of his name. In fact not much was said in this small tent. The fair men were silent in their heaviness and distrustful of the two strangers within their midst and the other, the 'Egyptologist' as the woman had called him, refused to speak except to place blame and express fear.

Evelyn was the only one of them who seemed capable of civil conversation given the harsh circumstances they all felt, a mark of the strength within. Her brother was injured and even still she could paint a smile upon her face to give him cheer, an act of healing that may well aid his recovery. They had brought him back from the den of a creature called Imhotep—so named by the wilders outside that only he could hear with his Elvish ears—and he had been unconscious, but alive. The creature had given him many slashes and bruises, but had left him with his life, deeming him likely unworth his time. What manner of creature would do this?

Orcs would make time to kill their prey slowly, enjoying the pain even in the smallest of fair folk and animals. Surely an Orc would have yearned for the taste of this man's flesh. Aragorn's description matched nothing like anything Legolas had ever heard tell of or seen. The creatures of Sauron were legion and he did not count it impossible that something may have been hidden inside Mordor, waiting for such a time as this, to emerge and further its master's wishes.

But these people knew nothing of Sauron, or so it seemed. The prince of Mirkwood listened intently to the conversations taking place outside amongst the wild men and none named the dark lord or even referenced him as he would be recognized in Middle-earth. They spoke only of their task in stopping the 'dark one' within the place they had escaped, this 'Hamunaptra' and of their missing captain and departing this camp. And these men did not feel foul to him, not so foul as their initial actions maybe have led him to believe. A day and a night had passed them by and their captors kept them fed, their thirst quenched and offered no mistreatment. Creatures of Sauron seldom care for their charges, except by the bare minimum of standards.

Legolas sat with his arms propped upon his knees and gazed around the dim place in which they were kept, noting that most of the occupants had fallen under the sway of sleep. Even at his side Aragorn had drifted away an hour past, expecting to be awakened for watch soon. Only Evelyn was awake, sitting beside her brother and looking tired now that her duty of giving hope was over for the night. "You may trust me to keep watch," he said softly into the stillness, knowing she needed rest.

"What?" was her reply, her dark eyes finding him watching. He merely offered a reassuring smile and she returned it. "That's not it. I'm just…worried, I guess. What about you? Don't you ever sleep? Every time I look at you, you're awake. I heard you…singing."

The last seemed to disturb her and he laughed. "I am sorry if I have kept you from your rest. I had thought everyone asleep and lost myself to my thoughts. Most find Elvish singing soothes their nerves."

Evelyn looked down at that and shook her head, still smiling and toying with the sand. "That's not what I meant. It was pleasant to hear. You have quite a gift." Again her eyes rested on his, a puzzled expression written there as she thought. Taking one last glance at her ailing brother, Evelyn moved closer to where he sat against the rear of the tent. Her tone became curious. "You and your friend are very peculiar. Oh, I don't mean that as rude as it sounds, but I've never met anyone like either of you. 'Elvish' singing, you say? And this is that language you keep using?"

Legolas looked at her amusedly. "Aye. Is that truly so strange to you?"

The human fidgeted slightly, shrugged and then nodded. "Yes, well, Elves are really no more than a bedtime story as far as I know."

"Truly?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "In this part of the world you do not believe in Elves?"

Her fidgeting stopped and her expression was genuinely concerned as she looked him over, then flit her eyes to Aragorn's sleeping form. "All over the world, Mr. Legolas. No one believes in Elves or Orcs or things of that nature…at least the majority, anyway." Evelyn tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded once. "I mean there could be some, but they're likely locked up in institutions or to be found in pubs and alleys. Do you…do you honestly believe you aren't human?"

Legolas turned, showing her his ear. "For over three-thousand years have I believed so."

Evelyn's features were dubious and he furrowed his brow again, puzzling at this strange place and its ignorance of even such basic things as Elves and Orcs as she spoke. "With all due respect, you could have had your ears altered to look that way or even been born with a defect…"

"I assure you my ears are the result of no defect," he said a little too quickly, then not wishing to cause distress in possibly their only ally in this, he offered another smile in friendship. "And would not altering my ears be a little extreme to feed a delusion?"

She glanced at his ears again and her expression became sardonic and impish. "You have a point there, but I hardly think extreme matters to those who are delusional." Evelyn smiled archly at him and again Legolas laughed.

The Elf bowed his head once and replied, "I concede. You may believe me delusional. I would have to be to find myself trapped in a place such as this." He took in their surroundings as if he could see beyond the tent walls and sighed. "We are in the east, are we not? Yet I have never heard the name of your country Egypt, nor heard of Easterlings that were not in league with the Dark Lord. Tell me, what of the west? That is where my dwelling is. Have none of your kind heard of what lays in that direction?"

Evelyn nodded to the contrary. "We've charted the world over and never came across a people called Elves, except in mythology. Across the ocean lies the Americas and beyond that merely circles back around to Asia and eventually here again and other places." She exhaled and looked up. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I never used to believe in walking corpses either. Not until I came here."

Almost instinctively Legolas turned his ears towards the outside again, listening for stray comments. "That creature, what do you know of it? Aragorn said his sword had little effect on it."

"Not much," she began, but another sound was already drawing his attention away from her voice as she spoke. Legolas lay a hand on her arm, asking for silence as he watched the entrance keenly. The footsteps drew nearer and without fail the flap was opened.

The Med-Jai Salih entered in haste. "Gather your things and wake your people. We are leaving at once." He stopped where the two Americans made their rest and knelt down to rouse them. "I will place your brother on my horse. Who of you opened the chest?"

Evelyn knit her brows. "What chest?"

Salih ignored her question, turning his eyes to Legolas and the Elf shook his head. As the first of the Americans roused, he then chose to answer. "There was a chest within Hamunaptra containing the Book of the Dead and four canopic jars." His hand hit against the shoulder of the other, but the Med-Jai trained his eyes upon the now awakened one. "It is important to know who opened the chest. Did you and your friends?"

The fair man nodded in confirmation with an irritated expression. "Yeah, I opened it, and Burns and Daniels. Oh, and Chamberlin over there. Why is that important?"

Legolas gripped Aragorn's shirt and gave but a small tug, which effectively began to awaken his friend as he listened to the warrior speak. "Because, my American friend, whomever opened that chest is in the gravest of danger. It is you that the creature will come for first, for you consummated his curse." Salih looked seriously into his face. "And you already know what will happen when he gets his hands on you."

Henderson had spun a tale of dread for them upon their rescue, claiming that the beast Aragorn had fought had become as the very wind and gathered their companion Burns into his net of power, stealing his very life before them before the Med-Jai had entered the fray. Their eyes were still troubled when they spoke of it, even now as the Med-Jai questioned them. "Did _anyone_ else open that chest?" The American shook his head.

"What exactly is this creature?" spoke Evelyn as she crawled to the Egyptologist and slapped him rather roughly on the arm. He jolted awake. "You seem full of questions, but not free with answers. Would you be so kind?"

Salih got to his feet and dusted the sand off his black robe. "He is the bringer of death. An ancient one, cursed and angry. For three-thousand years my people have watched over him to prevent his foretold awakening, but it seems fate cannot be stayed." His grave expression kept a moment, but faded under another need. "We must go. We drove him off last night, but he will not stop until he gets all that he craves."

"Us," Henderson breathed smartly, shaking his head as he stood and helped his injured friend.

The Med-Jai continued. "My men have sighted a wind storm sweeping across the desert. An unusually large storm. It could be him, or it may not. We know nothing of what powers the Hom-Dai will give him."

Legolas stood with Aragorn, sensing sudden urgency outside. There was a flutter of voices, startled and concerned as they made preparations to leave. They spoke of abandoning the tents and of great winds heading this way. "The need to leave has become greater than you believed," he spoke to the Med-Jai, brushing aside the distrust between them enough to speak in the face of danger. "Your men make haste and believe danger is sweeping upon us sooner rather than later. Return to me my bow that I might defend against whatever comes."

Salih furrowed his brow and took a few steps towards the tent exit at the urgency of his tone, peeled back the flap and peered outside. It could be seen even upon the darkness of the skyscape, a vision of swirling clouds and it could be heard through the howling of a fell wind. "Your bow will not defend against one such as Imhotep. Come! We must go now! Help the Englishman to his feet if he can walk."

Daniels had a broken arm and Chamberlin flat out refused to help, following after the Med-Jai who left the tent open for them. "Oh dear," Evelyn breathed as the wind sailed in and gave them a chill. She knelt down beside Jonathan and caressed her hand across his cheek, trying to wake him gently. Glints of blue found their vision before the wind blew their few candles out, leaving them in darkness.

The sounds outside grew and Legolas took a step in their direction to help, but stopped when Aragorn did the same. "I will help," he offered kindly and together with Henderson, they got Jonathan to his feet and out the door, amidst curses of pain and lamentations of 'Oh, bloody hell'.

In the short span of steps to the exit the Elf thought of freedom and escape, though hopeless it was. Outside Med-Jai guardians, who for all the impending danger still had angered expressions when looking upon the instigators of this trouble, immediately set them upon to prevent escape. They knew Evelyn had been the one who had read the book as well, offering the greater of their glares to her. The prince of Mirkwood frowned at this and closed in behind her, giving a glare of his own. This was no way to treat this situation. The enemy was this creature and holding them captive would not only endanger the group of westerners, but also hold the Med-Jai themselves down with unnecessary burden.

Their proclaimed leader—since apparently their captain had disappeared in the Elf's own place—came on a great brown horse and stopped before his brother and the procession behind him. "The horses are there," he indicated the left, "and ready to go. Take them to the Med-Jai encampment. I fear the worst of this storm."

"Yes, brother," Salih replied, adding to his stern temporary-captain, "Be safe."

Naseen said nothing and turned his hard glare onto the doom that came closer. This seemed no natural storm and Legolas could feel the ill intent echoing through the charged atmosphere. His blonde hair whipped with the wind as they began at a run towards a group of six horses. "Two by two," the younger of the brothers ordered, motioning for Jonathan to be brought to his own horse. With the freedom of their own rides they could escape, but Evelyn would never leave her brother behind. Upon his saddle was strapped Legolas's bow, which the Med-Jai ripped down and offered with his quiver on the other side. His swords were not given, he noticed with some irritation. "It may not help, but I will not send a man against Imhotep without his weapon." With that he also tossed a few black instruments that the Elf did not recognize to the Americans.

Aragorn took to a saddle after handing Jonathan into the care of the Med-Jai and offered his partnership to Evelyn, leaving Legolas the snide Egyptologist as the two Americans got upon their own. "I do hope you know how to ride," he commented dryly, stepping beside the beast. The ranger gave him a glance and the prince of Mirkwood could see a hint of humor at the corners of his lips.

"Have no fear," Legolas replied as he mounted and helped Chamberlin onto the back. "If you fall it will be no error."

Joined by three Med-Jai, they drove off and broke into the open night before the Egyptologist could make a reply and Legolas found himself grateful for at least this small familiar activity. This place burned during the day with a heat he found unwholesome and even with his Elven vision it seemed to stretch on for leagues without hint of forest.

Both the horse bearing Aragorn and that bearing Legolas were brought close to the lead Med-Jai's. Evelyn gazed at her brother in concern and the man offered a wan smile. "This creature you say is cursed," Aragorn spoke into the lonely air, "who is he and what can we expect?"

"As for what to expect, I cannot say more than that he will stop at nothing to gain the openers of that chest," Salih replied, his dark eyes fixed ahead, concealing worry. Perhaps he did know something of what they could expect at that, Legolas mused privately. "I don't think it will be peace, though. As for who I will give you the short version. Three thousand years ago a man fell in love with a woman he could not have. The king decreed that none could touch her, but Imhotep was a stubborn man and their love passionate. He killed his king for her and was punished by a curse. This curse gave him the powers he now has and those powers will only increase when he kills and absorbs their life. After that, who knows what he will do to have his revenge?"

That left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth, including Evelyn's brother who said, "So they cursed him with unstoppable, unholy powers. Remind me never to worry about angering ancient pharaohs." His sister gave him a wry look.

Aragorn pressed on with his quest for knowledge and Legolas listened both to he and the Med-Jai, and to the angry desert around them. "What can stop him?"

Awarding the ranger finally with a barely seen in the dark glance, Salih could not hide the fear tainting the very edges of his words. "Nothing, save the Book of Amun Ra."

"And where is this?"

The Med-Jai turned his gaze back out into the night. His reply was short, a word they had only learned these past two nights from Evelyn and her group. It filled even him with dread, for if the creature guarded the very thing that would end his terrible reign, what could be done? "Hamunaptra." He looked again at the ranger beside him. "If my captain is indeed where you came from, I hope it is a place more peaceful than here."

On that sorrowful note the two were silenced by their musings and Legolas exhaled, sweeping his crystal eyes around them again. Something was changing, he could sense, though he knew nothing of Egypt. He liked not the look of this place, nor the feel and the air seemed permeated with what headed for them. Away from camp even his sight was hard pressed with no firelight, a sliver of a moon and dim stars. Stars…Legolas looked up as the sand began stirring and just before it clouded his vision he caught a glimpse of Eärendil burning high in the black of the night. They had not left Middle-earth. He had expected to see it there, but in a way the sight chilled him, for this was not the home he knew. Was this woman lying when she said none believed in Elves, yet knew the world over?

There was no time afforded to ponder it, however. The breeze around them brought the sands into the very air, so much so that Legolas stopped his horse when it became too unbearable to see through. Raising an arm to help block his eyes he yelled, "Aragorn!" His voice seemed to shrink in the howling.

"Legolas!" The ranger was not far, but neither was he beside him as he had been. The horse he was on began to nicker nervously and the Elf gave a reassuring pat.

Slowly but surely sight was restored to him and the sand began to die down again, causing the prince of Mirkwood puzzlement. This did not feel like the clearing of a storm. The air was becoming too still from such a violent flow. Ahead he could see the others scattered, but close, each bearing uncertainty on their faces. Spurring the horse, Legolas absently whispered in Elvish and rejoined the others, looking to Salih. "Is it the creature?" whispered his friend to the Med-Jai, but Legolas already had the answer.

"Aye," he said suddenly as his horse backed into one of the Med-Jai's. He pointed into the distance. They could see a shadow coming, but their eyes were not as keen as his. What he saw filled Legolas with disgust. A twisted thing came towards them with dark eyes and deadly intent. Clad in a black robe from head to toe, he may have passed in other lands as a traveler except for what could be seen beneath his hood. The flesh was marred and decayed, hanging in papery sections from blackened bones. Such hideousness befitted only the darkest things kept secret in Mordor.

A moment they spent in silent vigil, but sense returned to all in the party soon enough. "Run!" Salih commanded, drawing his weapon and holding it aloft. "Get to the encampment at all costs!"

A single Med-Jai alone on a horse hissed, "Come this way!" and the Americans bolted off after him as he turned his horse.

"We will help," Aragorn said, his hand already on the hilt of Anduril with notice of Salih's intent. Ahead the creature could be seen by all, now in full horror and wearing an intensely cruel smile.

Salih shook his head. "No! Get them to the camp! At all costs run!"

Both Ranger and Elf shared a look before they obeyed that command, heading from the three that stayed behind to fight. But it proved in vain. The cries of shock from behind drew Aragorn's attention to the rear, but Legolas saw already again the answer to the question, this time before it could even be spoken. From either side sand came before them, stopping both horses dead as it materialized into a solid form before them.

The horse bearing the Elf and Egyptologist reared suddenly in fright of the creature and both slipped from his back, unprepared for the gravity. Beneath Legolas Chamberlin cursed and sputtered as he got up, and was quick to take his helping hand. But they were at a loss, for their horse had already bolted before he could regain control. "Legolas," Aragorn hissed, finally drawing his sword as the foul thing approached.

The Elf drew an arrow from his quiver before another second passed and drew it back, then sent it sailing towards the oncoming doom. The arrow struck its close target and nestled into tattered black fabric and bone. But the creature did not fall. A painfully thin, black hand lifted from the billowing sleeves of the robe and came up to the weapon buried in its chest, curling horribly deformed fingers around the arrow and yanking it out as if it were nothing. The creature laughed darkly and awarded Legolas's effort with an amused smile as he bore down on the Elf and the man behind.

Aragorn pulled his horse around with the intent of fighting, but the beast before them would not be sidetracked. Giving an unearthly growl it stormed by with an inhuman push that knocked the horse back and met the backing Elf head on. As hands curled around his tunic Legolas glared and prepared to fight hand to hand. But Imhotep wanted nothing to do with him, either. His attentions were focused behind upon the Egyptologist. He tossed Legolas to the sand as if he were a child and gave chase after the already running Chamberlin.

The Elf raced to his feet as his friend calmed the frightened horse and remounted. "We have to get him," said Salih as he and his two Med-Jai companions caught up. But they were too late. All heads turned towards the sound of screaming entering the night and Legolas saw within the darkness what they could not. Chamberlin was dying a horrible death unlike he had ever been told of even in stories, having his life yanked from him, his body decaying even as he lived and thrashed through it. One of the Med-Jai uttered something that may have been a curse and the Elf felt his shoulder being shaken.

Wordlessly he took the offer being made and mounted behind the warrior who had shaken him, knowing that danger was still ever near. He could hear a body hit the sand. The creature was done with his victim would turn his anger upon them. "He comes," he warned and the remains of the group spurred their mounts on into a gallop.

But none missed the scream from behind, a sound filled with triumph and a threat. "Nefertiri!" the creature yelled, and continued on into other words that faded with their distance.

"What did it say?" Legolas asked, conscious that there were no sounds betraying pursuit. If he thought he could make a guess at the creature's plan he would say it was toying with them almost.

Unexpectedly it was not one of the Med-Jai that replied to his query, but Evelyn herself and her face was very troubled and worried when she looked up. "He said 'Nefertiri, when I get my hands on you, you will beg me for death'. That's not a very promising message, is it?"

"Nay, my lady. It is not," Aragorn replied gravely, looking to the Med-Jai for answers, but they seemed just as confused as everyone else in the company. "Who is Nefertiri?"

Exhaling a shaky breath, Evelyn answered that question as well with fear trickling through her voice. Her brother's gaze was upon her as she said it, soft and sorrowful. "Nefertiri is a female name and since…" She looked to Salih for confirmation and received only uncertainty. "I believe he meant…me."

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**: I dunno. Is this all traveling too fast? :-/ ****

**Reviewers**:

**Lady** **FoxFire** – Heyas! Thanks for the review! To be honest, I'm not sure which would be funner or who I'd rather be stuck with. ;-) Steamy hot Med-Jai or steamy hot Ranger? Equally exciting prospects. ;-D

**Lula** – Hey, Lu! Glad to see have you aboard and I hope you enjoy it! :-)

**Kessele** – Thanks again for your continued viewing. :-) I hope this is turning out at least half as interesting as the premise! :-D

**Mythical Assassin** – Haunt me in my sleep? Was that you the other day that woke me up! :-O Hehehe. Thanks! I hope you enjoy!

**Mommints** – Thanks…it's hard writing Rick and Ardeth at this point…I'm so used to writing Ardeth as I see him in TMR that I'm having trouble connecting with him in this one! :-O Lol. ;-) Doh! I feel like I'm the one thrust into another world with no idea what to do! ;-) Hehe. Where's **Heroes** at so I can be inspired, huh? ;-)

**Marcher** – Hehe! Boromir is coming next chapter I do believe… :-O He's sa purty. ;-) Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying!

**Patty** – Hehe..thanks…I love Merry and Pip…they're so funny and so cool. :-D Arwen does realize it, yes, but I chose not to send her into sorrowful sniffing cause I like the way Liv Tyler portrays her as still being quite optimistic and hopeful despite the odds…I mean I'm sure she'd be worried, but I think with the way she is she'd be grounded enough to stay calm in the face of everything that's happening. :-)

**Karri** – Thankie, my friend! I'm happy you think so…though I'm getting wary now that I'm delving deeper into the story! ;-) :-)

**Deana** – Hehe! Thanks, Dee! You're so nice to say that. I'm glad you enjoy this story so much…speaking of enjoying stories…rumor has it there's one you're writing that I'd like to read more off…*cough* :-D


	5. The Ring Goes East

**A Matter of When**  
The Ring Goes East

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

Rivendell was now two days away. By night they traveled, unseen as shadows and unheard as whispers in the dark and by day they sought whatever secret shelter they could find within the forest. Bearing his burden alone, Ardeth stayed close to the rear of the Company and mingled his sight with the trees as they walked. O'Connell was ahead, speaking with Gandalf—the wizard. Wizards and Elves. He had just strayed into an Englishman's fantasy. O'Connell, though he seemed to be having trouble believing in any of this, seemed to be taking everything in stride. He was like a man who truly believed he walked in a dream and was expecting to wake up soon, but Ardeth wasn't so sure that was the case.

Dreams weren't so vivid. They could be just as fantastical, but this place felt very real. It was peaceful, but there was something just on the edge of the horizon that was reminiscent of his long vigil over Hamunaptra. The sense of something evil waiting around the corner, all too ready to emerge. They spoke nothing of their quest to either he or Rick, but he could feel it sure enough. A trained warrior would.

Four little beings—Hobbits as they called themselves, wandered in the center of the company with another being who was small, but referred to himself as a Dwarf and beside him walked the only person in this strange place he felt he understood. A warrior would also recognize one of his own. The auburn-haired man had said very little during the supper at Elrond's, but he had been paying attention sure enough. Watching, weighing, assessing. Ardeth wasn't sure whether to take comfort in someone with whom he could identify or be suspicious and silent. Still, this Boromir seemed to recognize some of the same traits in him and seemed ready to at last delve further into his learning. "We were told very little of you and your friend. You have the look of a man that comes from the east."

That, at least, was accurate enough. Ardeth nodded once and made the decision not to volunteer anything. "You could say that."

Boromir furrowed his brow and looked ahead with thoughtful, hazel eyes. "An Easterling." His tone was distrustful. "It was believed Elrond the Halfelven was wise, but…answer me truly. Are you not a servant of Sauron? I will see the lie in your eyes if you answer me falsely." His gaze was troubled and Ardeth could see no reason to blame him. If the ones they were replacing had arrived within the sight of the Med-Jai…

"Boromir," called the voice of Gandalf from ahead and they both looked up to see the old man glance back. "He is not an enemy of Gondor. He does not come from the place that you think."

That silenced the man beside Ardeth well enough, but he could still see the distrust written in his eyes. A logical opinion to keep, if groundless. They could have been friends in another time and place, perhaps. Then again, it seemed this would prove to be that time and place. "I am from a place called Egypt," he offered with a friendly, if wary smile. "It sandy and hot and holds some of the darkest secrets of the world. It is my duty to stop those secrets from awakening and causing terror."

"You speak of duty," the other replied, that edge decreasing slightly, giving the benefit of the doubt. "That can attest that you have some honor. I do not mean to be rude by my words, but you must understand that the people of my home have suffered by the creatures of Sauron and the wild men of the east." He exhaled and stepped over a fallen branch, waiting while Ardeth did the same. "This trip has been filled with strange turns, but I will do as I have said I will. I will follow the counsel of Elrond."

Ardeth shared a look with the warrior and may have spoken more, but something caught his attention. Something in the distance behind them. Hooves. It was said if they took the so-called 'High Pass' they were making for, that it would prove to be the more dangerous road where stealth would be difficult, but also the shorter way to Lothlorien. Now the danger would make its face known. "Hold," Boromir called to the rest of the Fellowship and all froze to listen. The sound strengthened and the fair warrior looked up at Ardeth. "I hear it also." Quietly, he slipped away and to where Gandalf and Rick was. They whispered softly and the Hobbits spoke amongst themselves, but all voices stopped soon enough.

He was thankful they had chosen to travel off road. A sound echoed through the wind suddenly, chilling and shrill. It reminded him of the screams that had issued from Hamunaptra, only worse. More startling and ear-piercing. The hooves thundered closer and Gandalf hissed, "Nazgûl! Down!"

They dropped and listened again, and Ardeth wondered what this Nazgûl was, to cause such fear. Was it something akin to Imhotep; unstoppable, immortal and death itself? In his own world he knew it could be and even more so in this one. Yet the instinct to defend made him uneasy with waiting. "Ardeth," Rick whispered into the night air, making him wince with its high seeming volume. "Boogie man." He gave a thumbs up, then frowned when the wizard sternly tapped his head with his staff.

The hoof beats slowed and came to a stop on the road not forty feet away, and the air crackled with that horrible, high-pitched call. Other hooves in the distance could be heard. Nearby he could see the Hobbits were frightened, but held knowing expressions in their eyes as if they had seen this terror before. So, could it be escaped? Using overgrown grasses and trees for cover, Ardeth crawled slowly and silently closer and opened his mouth, but could speak no words. The other horse could be heard stopping on the road as well.

The wizard ventured a look in the direction of the now quiet riders, then shook his head gravely. "They know we are hiding here. They…" He stopped short when the grasses stirred. Ardeth lifted himself just barely enough to see and froze, seeing movement in the forest. Through the thick trees he could just barely see it, though it was barely more than a shadow atop a great, black horse. A hooded head turned from side to side and Ardeth crouched back down.

"They don't know," he mouthed, too leery to make a sound.

What the wizard mouthed back made him swallow. "They will."

The Hobbit Ardeth remembered as Frodo gave a pained expression, clutching a pendant on a chain around his neck. "Gandalf…"

Another sound filtered to the ears of the Fellowship as they cowered in the shadows and as the Nazgûl came closer and closer to where they were hidden. Sniffing and hissing. A sound that filled Ardeth with an unwholesome disquiet. They were getting too close and soon there would be no hiding from these things. Boromir thought this too and breathed, "We have no choice but to run!"

What small choice there may have been ended with that statement. With startling speed the horses bearing these black riders took flight towards the group and there was no time to spare for thought. Ardeth bolted from the path of a horse and stumbled back as he looked up into the faceless hood of his foe. The malevolent, howling screech of laughter gave him chills. This was certainly not like any enemy he had ever fought. A loud metallic sound scraped through the tense atmosphere as the black-caped rider drew a long sword and yanked the reigns of his horse, drawing it in chase after the Med-Jai.

A hand to his shoulder drew him back and urged him into the forest. "Fire!" he could hear one of the Hobbits crying out in some unknown direction. "Strider used fire to drive them off!"

He and his running companion—Boromir, he saw, would not be able to outrun the horse, natural or not. He could feel it practically breathing down his neck in chase and just the vision of these monsters inspired loathing terror in him. Ardeth had never felt anything close to what he was feeling now, not once in his life. He was never one to outrun a single enemy, but somehow he got the feeling were he to turn and face this being, it would surely lead to some vile end. Yet the Fellowship was in danger. "The others," he managed breathlessly, turning and zigzagging with Boromir into the night.

"We will go around," he replied quickly and Ardeth could see he was leading him into a circle back to where the others had run.

But they didn't stay together long. The rider behind them grew tired of the game and drove his horse between them, separating them. The horse cried out as its rider tugged the reigns and stopped it. Now alone, Ardeth whipped around to see what was going to befall him. The Nazgûl dismounted with a great thud as it hit the earth and began to advance with a confident grace. The Med-Jai drew his scimitar and prepared for battle. "The Rrrinnng," it hissed darkly, a sound that seemed to echo against the trees. "Wherrre is the _Rrrinng_?"

"I know nothing of what you speak!" Ardeth shot, defending as an experimental blow came his way. It seemed to laugh at is threw another and another. He had few choices. Even if he managed to get in a blow, would this being falter? If his blade caused no pain and got stuck within this thing's grasp, he would be open to attack.

He backed away, nearly stumbling on the tall grass as he moved and knew real fear when his back hit a tree. This was an opportunity the black being would take full advantage of. With a screech the Nazgûl darted a black gauntlet towards Ardeth and ripped his scimitar away, tossing into the darkness beyond them. Bay tried to slip away to the side, but his enemy caught his shirt and slammed him back into place. Its sword dropped and was replaced by a smaller blade, which was lifted to the base of his throat and driven to nick his flesh. "_Wherrre is it?_" the thing demanded in its whispery, terrible voice.

It was answered by a sword shoving away the short blade and smart-tongued voice. "Take that you…foul…thing!" Ardeth whipped away from the Nazgûl as it fell back with a powerful kick.

"Run," Boromir warned both he and the speaker, Merry. He tossed Ardeth his scimitar before taking off towards the north, expecting to be followed. Med-Jai and Hobbit followed without needing to be told twice. The Nazgûl screamed its anger and gave chase immediately, following them into the night.

The Hobbit kept up remarkably well, given his stature and Ardeth refrained from the urge to aide him because of that fact. "What about the others?" he called to the man running ahead, sounding winded.

Boromir echoed his very thoughts as he sprinted. "We will find them! We have not the…" His voice was cut off suddenly and replaced by muffled groaning and gasps. He hadn't been too far ahead, which puzzled both Ardeth and Merry, who suddenly saw nothing ahead. Boromir had disappeared, or seemed to, except for his pained mutters echoing from a little bit away.

They skidded to a halt when they saw it—a sudden drop in ground level. Boromir had tumbled down a steep hill and was now cursing from the bottom. But they had no time to ask if he were all right. Their foe forgotten mere seconds too long came up behind and as that terrible hissing laughter found Ardeth's ears he realized he and his little friend were done for. The Nazgûl shoved them down to join their companion and began to follow until another screech rang out in the distance.

As he fell he had the sensation of evil wandering away, but he spent very little time thinking on it. Hitting the forest floor below Ardeth groaned in relief that he was still alive and the last thing he perceived before succumbing to the sudden weariness settling into his body was the sounds of wraith calls filling the dark.

~~~~~~~

He had never been so grateful to see the light. Morning seemed to come upon them at an achingly slow rate and he couldn't have been happier when finally the skies were luminous gray instead of black. Shivering against a tree in the morning mist, Rick leaned his head back and inhaled deeply, wondering what had happened to the three missing members of their party. The Hobbits had been hard pressed to take sleep, being concerned about their missing friend and Gimli too had seemed a bit disturbed that they were going to wait in searching, but the wizard had been firm about staying in one spot until they found them. If the two separate parties wandered the massive forests together then it was entirely likely they would pass each other by—or so he had said.

He was right mostly, but what if the other group was doing the same and waiting to be found? That was the point Pippin had brought up, winning another logical reply from the wise old man. "We won't take the quest back into the direction we sent the wraiths," he had said firmly and that was an end to it. They knew whatever quest they were on was more important than the lives of their Company.

The old wizard was stirring. Rick inhaled and leaned his head back against the tree, wondering what would happen today. Would they search for Ardeth and the others? He knew the Med-Jai just about as well as he knew the red-headed warrior and the Hobbit that were also missing, but he also sympathized with how he would feel, lost and unable to get to the only hope of returning back home. For his sake Rick hoped he had found at least Boromir and Merry.

Gandalf sat up from his mat with fully alert eyes, as if he hadn't been sleeping at all, and met his vision gravely. He didn't ask if Rick had seen anything on watch and Rick would have told him if he had without being prompted. No way he would chance facing the Nazgûl alone in the dark. He could go another lifetime without ever seeing another one of those things again. The fire still played in his thoughts, Gandalf chanting in some unknown language and the wraiths fleeing in anguish. Those cries were unearthly and eerie and if Evy were facing anything like this right now…

"You're troubled," the old man assumed, stretching his hands towards the dying fire in the center of their little camp.

Rubbing a hand through his dusty brown hair, O'Connell let out a sigh and shrugged. "Yeah, I mean what the hell were those things? Ardeth says back home something's gonna attack some people I'm kinda fond of and well, if he's anything like those… I knew there was something weird at Hamunaptra. I _knew_ it, but I just didn't want to believe, you know? And I led her there assuming everything was at least somewhat safe, or if it wasn't then at least I could take care of it, but now I don't even have that. I don't even know why I care so much. She's just a girl, right?"

Gandalf studied the flames quietly a moment, then glanced up. "Some things are more than they seem at first. And often new hope is born where there seemed to be none. I do not know what part you will play in our quest, or what part Aragorn will play in yours back home, but there is always hope. Only when we lose sight of that fact does it become untrue."

"Yeah," Rick replied, biting the inside of his cheek. He scratched his arm and looked into the old man's eyes. "So what's on the list today? Aside from repairing frayed nerves? We gonna look for the others?"

The expression on the wizard's face told him that hope sometimes did _not_ exist in certain situations. He looked regretful and grave, just like any leader who had a grim choice to make. "Those creatures cannot be destroyed and my power will drive them back for only so long. We must go the path I had chosen before. We must go south. I fear we have no time to waste, for the creatures of Sauron will stop at nothing. We…we cannot go back. This quest surpasses all else in priority."

Rick nodded and looked at the fire a little sullenly. This wasn't turning out to be one of his more promising adventures. "Yeah. I figured something like that. Look, what we faced last night was pretty…I mean that was unlike I've ever come against. I know I'm the new guy, but if I'm gonna risk my neck like this, couldn't you at least tell me what I'm fighting for? I heard one of those things say something about a ring?"

"What you are fighting for is to reach Lothlorien in the hope that Lady Galadriel will be able to help you get home," Gandalf replied quick enough, but after a long look he sighed and conceded. "But Elrond could have brought you, yet I insisted you come with us against all the reasons you should not. Perhaps I do owe you an explanation at that." The old man grunted and reached for a bag nearby, pulling out a long pipe and some wrapped up weed. He remained silent, Rick noticed and just when the ex-Legionnaire was about to prod for further information, Gandalf looked up. "The quest involves a dangerous artifact, this Ring you heard talk of." He nodded towards the sleeping Frodo Baggins. "He has it and must destroy it before Sauron finds it. If the Dark Lord gets his Ring then all Middle-earth will be lost. That is the Fellowship's task. Aiding Frodo to Mount Doom where he can destroy it."

His token reaction to hearing such grave news was the same every little stint he went on. Rick absently pulled a gun from his holster and started checking it. His ammo was limited in this place, he feared. The Lord of Imladris had offered him a bow and arrow—a weapon he had absolutely no training in, but nothing matched having a colt at his side. He had already wasted two bullets already in shooting at one of those robed creatures. "And those things?"

The wizard blew a smoke ring and watched it float away as if his mind were on other things, perhaps an easier time. "They were men once, powerful and easily won over by flattery. They were given nine rings of power, nine rings for nine riders, and through the One Ring that Frodo has they were controlled and changed into what you see now. They serve the darkness and have no hope of return. They are wraiths, undying and unstoppable. As I said, my power will only keep them afar for too short a time. There is still hope for our companions. The Son of Gondor knows the way to Lorien, in a general manner at any rate. Galadriel is wise and will know to admit them if they arrive." Gandalf took a breath, then got up and regretfully began to rouse the sleeping Hobbits and the Dwarf.

Out of curiousity Rick found his eyes traveling to the one Gandalf had pointed out. To Frodo who held the Ring. There was something different about him, that was certain. He looked like he bore the weight of such a heavy task, sort of the way Bay had when they had last spoken of Hamunaptra and the dread priest that lay within the City of the Dead. But he was no fighter.

There was a chain around his neck, a chain Rick had noticed before and which drew his attention again as the Hobbit tiredly sat up and waited for his friends to awaken as well. Would that be were the Ring was? It seemed strange to Rick that such a small thing as a piece of jewelry could cause such trouble, but then again, he had heard the screams emanating from Hamunaptra after Evelyn had read the Book of the Dead. Rick had wanted nothing to do with that Book, but a sudden morbid curiousity made him want to see this Ring for himself. A strong curiousity.

Taking a breath, Rick shook his head and forced his eyes away from the chain. But his interest had not gone unnoticed. Sharp blue eyes watched him in silence with a kind of wary dread that made the ex-Legionnaire exhale. He offered the Hobbit a smile as he began to gather his pack together. "Gandalf told me a little about our job."

Frodo relaxed a little at the friendly tone and looked to his own belongings. "Will you turn back now? Now that you know what you've gotten yourself into?"

"Nah." Rick shook his head and stood up straight, taking in their surroundings. Of course he wanted to turn back—he wouldn't have been too keen on facing that mummy Bay had talked about, either—but something told him not to back down now. He glanced at the Hobbit's chain momentarily, then back into his eyes. "I mean, yeah, a part of me says Rivendell wasn't that bad of a place to settle down at and that Arwen was pretty, but hey. I'm already out this far and I've risked my ass for less than the fate of the world."

The Hobbit gave him a wan smile, but it didn't last as the wizard began informing them of their situation. The Hobbits looked disheartened and Gimli grave. "Not a fair step from Rivendell and already we have lost near to half our number," he commented, looking up. "With the wraiths to the east we have little choice but to turn back or go south."

O'Connell grunted as the others also got to their feet, one by one, taking fruit as it was given by the wizard. Accepting an apple, he rubbed it against his shirt and shared a look with Gandalf. "What about that, anyway? I'm not saying abandon the quest, but couldn't Elrond come with us or at least…?"

"This trip was not meant for him," the old man replied with a distant expression that suggested he might still be considering otherwise. "Already he has fought in the first war and done much more than most. He has people to care for and I can ask no more than his wisdom in this." He turned to the final member of the Company—the solemn Pippin, and shook his head. "No. We will continue on. Things are grim, but not hopeless."

With that the wizard turned south and O'Connell allowed the others ahead of him, taking the rear with his thoughts. Again his eyes rested upon Frodo as he wondered what hopeless would be like. He didn't want to know.

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**: Hmmm…well, despite my misgivings about this chapter, I'll throw it out and see what you all think. :-/

**Reviewers**:

**Patty** – Thanks for the review…yeah, the relationship between the Med-Jai and the Middle-earthians is a tentative one, eh? :-)

**Lady Dragon** – Thanks!! :-) I'm glad you're liking this!

**Lula** – Hehehe…when you catch up…thanks! :-D Hope you don't get too lost in the LOTR mythology…lol.

**Marxbros** – Thanks! I'm glad you liked the battle. Romance for Evy…hmm. ;-) Will it be Aragorn or Legolas? :-O I hope you enjoyed Two Towers as much as I did…I saw it 5 times. *blush* I can't help it…I keep going back for that scene of Aragorn at the beginning where he's laying on the rock. Very nice close-up. Not to mention how HOT Legolas looks when he's mad. ;-D As for Buff, I won't abandon it. *sniff* I just lost my Buffy vibe somewhere. :-O Gotta recapture it.

**Marcher** – Hehehe…yeah, I just can't leave those ears alone. ;-D And yeah…Aragorn is such a king…so perfect. *swoon* I loooove him. ;-) Anyway, about Imhotep…well, see it's always irked me about TM that Imhotep thought she was Ancksunamun…I mean I guess we attribute that to stolen nearsighted eyes, huh? But I figure by now he's figured out that she's not Ancksunamun, but really Nefertiri and well, Neffy did scream against them killing Seti, eh? That had to have irked Imhotep over the years. ;-D And we all know (I assume we do) how sexy an irked Imhotep can be. ;-D Mmmm. Thankie! As for the resurrection, I assume he'll try. ;-) Not sure how far he'll get, though. :-O

**Karri** – Thanks…yeah, as I told Marcher, I can't leave those ears alone. ;-) They're so cute. Thanks muchly for your continued reading! :-D

**Lady Foxfire** – I'm not sure when exactly Aragorn will understand his relation, but I know when Rickybug will. :-D I've got a few choice lines to go with that too. Hehehe. Soonish. :-D Sorta. Thanks for reading!

**Deana** – Lol…I'm glad you're enjoying this story so much, my friend. :-) I'm actually surprised you do, somewhat. :-O Thanks for reading and compliments! Next chapter Ardeth'll be accosted by insane Hobbits…oh wait, that was just a dream…:-D


	6. An Evil Choice

**A Matter of When**  
An Evil Choice

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

Arms folded and eyes set towards the sands, Evelyn stood in silent wait at the door of a large tent at the Med-Jai encampment. Their fates were as yet undetermined and these Med-Jai seemed about as close to a decision as the moon was to this earth. They were very cross with her, that they had no trouble knowing. They blamed her for this and spoke in harsh, furious tones about what she had done and what the party of warriors had not done to prevent this. They argued of consequences and justifications and punishments. 'Let the westerners fend for themselves' one angry voice had suggested, only to be argued down by another, who tartly informed his brother-warrior that if they made that choice the creature would surely kill them all, regenerate and become invincible. She had even heard one suggest that she herself be given as a deterrent to keep the creature busy while they searched for a way to stop him.

Evy wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what part of the blame she was responsible for and just how dangerous her little expedition had become. How could she have known what would happen, though? How could she have possibly known that waiting for her in the desert would be the gravest mistake she had ever made? "What harm ever came from reading a book?" she whispered to herself, trying to flush out the heated voices from behind her. What harm indeed. Aragorn had informed her that before his little trip to Egypt he had walked into a room with two creatures he called Hobbits and one of those had been reading from a book as well, quite possibly the one responsible for the mess he and his Elvish friend were into. Books weren't exactly as harmless as she had once imagined.

Absently, she turned her head to view her companions and saw two glittering blue eyes watching her and inwardly it made her shiver. Eyes like O'Connell's eyes, only softer, more refined and gentlemanly. Instead of looking away at being caught, Aragorn bowed his head and offered her a reassuring smile, which made her chills all the worse. _Oh, honestly, girl_, she thought to herself, smiling and turning back to the view outside. These two strangers were another of her worries, for their presense brought to mind Rick's absence. Not that she thought she and ruffian were going to go anywhere. In the darkest place in her heart she could admit only to herself that yes, she found that lout attractive. He was dashing and witty and totally wrong for her. It would end in heartbreak, she knew, which was why it would never begin at all. After all, she hardly knew this man. But even still, she didn't want to see him get hurt.

Men, of course, were the least of her worries, however. Right at the very forefront of her mind was that chilling scream, that call into the darkness of an ancient name that struck a chord in her. She hadn't spoken of this to the others, of course, but when that voice called her Nefertiri there had been no doubt in her mind he had been speaking to her. The reasoning for that remained to be seen. Perhaps it was merely that she had been the only female in the group of warriors or something else, but there had been one brief second of certainty and it did not want to leave her alone. This creature, this Imhotep person, seemed quite angry with her, or who he perceived her to be. She shuddered to think what he would do if he truly did get a hold of her. Begging for death was not exactly on her list of favored activities.

And then there was Jonathan. He wasn't too bad off, but neither was he in pristine condition. All in defending her from the very thing she had caused. If these Med-Jai decided to protect only those Imhotep wished to consume, if they left she and Jonathan and the other two to the mercy of the creature…Jonathan would have little chance of survival with his new limp—courtesy of an injured hip, not to mention the danger she and the strangers would face.

From behind a commotion pulled Evelyn from her broody thoughts. "What have you done with the young captain?" one of the Med-Jai, a seasoned man of medium build, demanded of Legolas, causing those once serene features of the Elf's to sharpen. "They tell me when Ardeth Bay disappeared, you were found in his place. By what sorcery have you taken him?"

"I shall explain again, if the word of your man is not good enough," the Elf replied in a hard but civil tone. The Med-Jai narrowed his brow. "My friend and I were transported by some spell and brought into your world unwillingly. I know not who you are, nor to whom this land belongs, but if your captain is indeed where I came from I assure you he is well kept and will come to no harm. Perhaps if you stopped wasting time with small, meaningless intimidations and accepted our help we could find a satisfying end to this trouble."

Man and Elf shared steely glances and Evelyn was not sure what to make of these desert people. They frightened her, true enough, but in some of their conversations she could discern something of the ability to compromise. This man before her spoke with a hard, fearsome voice, yet had been against leaving them to death in the desert. His eyes shadowed a keen intelligence and wisdom as he eased off reluctantly. "Perhaps," he replied gruffly, washing the group of westerners over with weary vision. "Perhaps, indeed. We will see in the end what is true. But you are right. We are wasting time and my son would agree, were he here. I am Abdul-Medjid Bay and you, who have replaced my son?"

Evy noticed the glare of Legolas lessen. "I am called Legolas. I understand your worry for your kin and I regret this has happened, but again I assure you that if he is from where I have come, Lord Elrond will see him safely home if at all possible."

The bold-eyed Med-Jai nodded in concession. "For the sake of myself, my son and you, I pray your words are correct." He paced a few steps and turned his eyes on Evelyn now, causing her to flinch. "You are the woman that awakened Imhotep? The one he called Nefertiri?"

"W-well, yes, I…I am," she replied nervously, thinking again of that hot, deadly desert. "Please, don't take it out on these others. It was my fault completely. I…I woke your creature. My brother had nothing to do with it."

Bay cocked his head back thoughtfully and regarded her. "You take full responsibility, then?" She nodded. "You have a brave heart. And you knew the path to Hamunaptra? You coerced your companions to join you against their will?"

Her heart sank at those words. No lie would get past this man and he likely would blame the men regardless of intent, for they should have stopped her from coming if they were against it. "I paid a man to bring me and my brother out here. These others, these Americans were met along the way. But my brother came for my protection."

"And not the gold." It wasn't exactly an agreement and his features were decidedly unhappy with this business. "You know nothing of the desert or what it holds. This thing that you have done is no simple incident. You may have well awakened hell upon this earth by your western need to explore things that should remain forgotten. And now I lose the best of my warriors." He exhaled lengthily and looked around, then met her eyes quickly. "Tell me what I should do to fix this?"

Evy looked down at the slight tinge of certainty in his voice, certainty that she would have no answers. She would not be mocked. Fire would be fought with fire and her eyes captured some of that as she glared up. "Well, first of all you could try explaining this creature to us. We know who he is and that he's the doom of the world as we know it and all that, but we still don't understand exactly what this thing is. What is his nature? What are his powers? This curse that was done to him, what does it mean? Is there anything that can stop him, aside from anger?"

The Med-Jai watched her little parade of questions mildly, then smiled at her conclusion. "You are indeed a brave woman. Strong and fierce. Perhaps if you had told me you coerced your brother and the man you paid, I would have believed after all." Spreading a hand, he motioned her to the table of warriors, nodding for one to exit his chair. Bay even pulled it out for her and she sat down uncertainly as he turned to her companions. "By all means, if you would help us, please come to the table. As much as I love my son, we have bigger problems to worry about. He may not have a home to return to if Imhotep reigns."

He sat down as the others drew near, Legolas and Aragorn taking a chair and the Americans hovering in the background. Jonathan remained seated in the corner for these proceedings with a wet rag, tending a large slash on his arm. Abdul-Medjid leaned back in his seat and fixed a neutral gaze upon the strangers. "Chieftain," began Naseen, clearly not happy with this arrangement. "Are you sure that this is wise? I…"

The younger man closed his lips upon a glare from Bay. "You will learn your place, son of my brother." Inwardly Evelyn decided she sort of liked this man. He turned to his guests. "My apologies. You know the history of Imhotep and now ask his nature and the simple answer to this is we simply do not know. Some of the ancient texts have been damaged and forgotten. The Med-Jai's most urgent duty was to see that no one awakened Imhotep and we do not fail our duties often. We know his powers will bring on the ten plagues, which explains the darkness outside and assorted other occurrences as of the past few days. My cousin in Cairo has a few theories, but I fear a dispatch there, research and return would come too late. The creature is awakened now and seeks now to destroy. We cannot know his mind fully, but rest assured that whatever goodness may be in his heart, the curse would most certainly drown that out."

"It is my understanding that this creature wishes to consume the life of certain members of our party," Aragorn spoke for the first time in a while. Bay nodded to that.

"He will need to regenerate himself to become fully empowered. I imagine this is the most important thing on his mind right now."

Aragorn looked up at the men in question. "Then our first priority is to protect them at all costs. I have seen for myself that weapons do not harm this beast. If you need to confer with others in another land in order to stop this thing, then we should take them with us."

The Med-Jai shook his head at that. "Better that they stay in the protection of numbers, wouldn't you say? If they were caught together in the desert and consumed he would be fully powerful and more dangerous than we could possibly conceive."

"But he knows which way we came," Evy interjected. "He didn't follow us, but it was a straight path with no turns. All he has to do is follow this path and find us here. Do numbers matter against this thing?"

"I do not know." Restless unease spread through those gathered around the table. "I doubt it."

The oppressive night outside kept them in a dimly lit, shadowy atmosphere that breathed an ominous chill into her soul. She could still hear it in her mind, him screaming that ancient name. Evelyn looked to Abdul-Medjid and said, "Who is Nefertiri? Does he speak of the daughter of Seti I?"

Bay nodded slowly. "Yes. She is whom he speaks of, though why he should confuse you for her is beyond my reason."

"He also called me Ancksunamun."

That produced a more visible reaction. The older Med-Jai narrowed his brow and looked her over. "Ancksunamun was his lover. Why would he call you by two separate names? It makes no sense."

Salih spoke up from his chair near to Legolas. "If you were locked in a casket for 3,000 years it's entirely possible your perceptions would be off as well." He grinned with his uncle.

"Burns," Henderson supplied with a shrug. "He had bad eyes and that's where this bastard got his sight from. Maybe after sucking that Egyptologist dry he could see clearer."

Abdul-Medjid shook his head and crossed his muscled arms. "This is all beside the point. Taking the remainder of Imhotep's targets into the desert is a dangerous task, but we have little other choice. Have you any skill, strangers? Guns? Blades?"

Sitting back in his chair, Aragorn gripped the hilt of his great sword and offered a quiet smile. Bay shared this expression for a moment, somehow voicing a challenge through those black eyes of his, then quickly turned to Legolas. Now reunited with his swords he had two weapons in his care. "I have skill with blades, but my preference is in the bow and arrow."

The Med-Jai nodded slowly, then looked to the Americans. "Guns?" he assumed and wasn't disappointed. Bay then addressed Salih. "Outfit them all with guns, including the woman. Give her a knife for emergencies."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "I…I wouldn't know…" she stammered at the prospect, having never touched a weapon to use against another in all her life.

Bay's smile was soft and reassuring…and amused. "I suggest you learn quickly, then. For Imhotep will not care about delicacy when it comes to attack. You might not be able to kill him, but he is certain to gather allies. You might come face to face with a fight." He chuckled at her speechless unease. "We will take the fight to Cairo, then. Naseen, select some warriors from your men, but leave some of the more able here to defend our people should the creature come here. You may consider also moving the encampment, but I will leave that to your discretion in my absence. Salih, you will come with me as I lead the convoy." Immediately Naseen and Salih left the tent and their Chieftain leaned forward against the table, his fingers finding a cup of water and rubbing against the rim as he focused on Aragorn once more. "I give you weapons because I see something akin to myself in your eyes. I pray you do not betray my trust."

"If there is honor in your word, there is honor in mine," he replied with a short bow of his head. "If your cousin is a master of lore then perhaps he would have help for our situation as well, that you regain your son and the other that is missing."

"One can hope."

~~~~~~~

He studied the weapon intently, his perfect hair blowing in the breeze and his perfect brow creased in thought. Jonathan cocked his head and smiled, gratified that this person seemed ignorant at least about one thing. He swirled the water in his clay glass around. "I say. Having a little trouble there?" he asked pleasantly and the so-called Elf looked up with a shake of his head.

"Nay. I can well discern what manner of use this weapon has and how that would come about, but it is a question that troubles me." He held the gun up towards Jonathan and looked down the barrel.

"Bloody hell!" With a little jump Carnahan was off his seat and out of the path of the bullet he just knew would come shooting out of the weapon at any moment, whether by accident or something a little loftier. He wasn't entirely sure he trusted these people. Legolas smirked and turned it down to the sand.

The blonde turned his fixation back upon the handgun. "I was instructed in its use, but what troubles me is the nature of the weapon itself. This the Med-Jai did not explain. How can a small piece of metal be hurled at speeds enough to do great bodily harm and even kill through such a device? Is it achieved by some sort of power?" He frowned at that. "I feel nothing remarkable about this weapon."

Taking the gun, Jonathan shook his head. "Not magic, my good son. Modern ingenuity. You see when you hold the trigger it ignites a powder inside that explodes, for lack of a better word, hurling the bullet out and into the heart of a villain before his brain can register the shock." He handed the weapon back and nodded to a nearby backless, wooden bench. Taking a last drink, Jonathan set his cup on the seat and dragged the bench into the open to be backdropped against the desert.

Legolas watched him curiously as he approached again, then pulled him back a few paces. The Elf followed him a good ways back and once they were good and far, Jonathan stopped and pointed. "Give it your best shot. The metal gets a little hot when you shoot, but not intolerably. Point and squeeze."

The Elf furrowed his brow in thought and held the gun up, gazing down the barrel in concentration. Rubbing his sore arm absently, Jonathan watched and waited. After a few moments and the Englishman's certainty he would miss the first time, a blast filled the air, followed by the tinkle of broken pottery. His cup immediately scattered into a thousand pieces and Carnahan whistled in appreciation. Legolas looked down at the weapon in his hand thoughtfully. "This is a good weapon. I should like to take one back home with me and examine it more closely."

"Yes," Jonathan said, clapping the younger-seeming man on the shoulder as they began towards the center of camp again. Footsteps behind made both men turn to see Salih, with a worried expression, bound into the area. He stopped breathlessly and frowned when Jonathan grinned and waved. "Would be a far cry from using swords and arrows all the time, hmm? You, my boy, need to get behind a Panzerschreck."

"Panzerschrek?" the other questioned.

The Englishman nodded. "Rocket launcher made in Germany. Lovely piece, or so I'm told. Think of a bullet with fire inside and enlarge it to the size of your fist, with a tail on the hindquarters for good aerodynamics, of course. Where once there stood an Orc will be but an empty hole in the ground." Legolas grinned. Perhaps he could be trusted after all. "Say, I don't suppose you care for strong drinks, do you?"

The Elf wasn't a disappointment in that department. "Aye, of that I am quite fond. My father's brewers are known for their talent at winemaking."

With a sly smirk, Jonathan raised his eyebrows in thought as a pleasant idea came to mind. "Well then, we might just have to take a side trip to this little bar I know of in Cairo. Quite a fine selection of drinks, but don't tell Evy. We'll keep it hush-hush, hmm?"

As they stepped into the center of camp where preparations were being made the woman in question eyed them from her place beside Aragorn. Legolas offered a smile, then looked conspiringly to her brother. "I shall look forward to pitting your bar against my customary drink then."

Carnahan gripped the other's hand and shook it, sealing the deal. "Excellent, my Elven lad. Excellent." 

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**: Do I still have an audience for this one? :-O

**Reviewers**:

**Patty** – Thanks! I'm glad I got Boromir down good then…I lurve that boy! ;-) Four times? Not enough, says I! I could see it a billion more! :-D Hope you're still enjoying and oh, yes, Aragorn does hurt beautifully. That was so cute when that horse nudged him! :-D

**Mommints** – Thank you muchly, my friend! I'm glad you're enjoying! Being sick SUCKS! So I understand! Great chapter on Heroes…I haven't read your new one yet, but plan to when I get the ability! :-D

**Marcher** – Lol…sorry, but I just thought it would be so natural, Rick wanting the ring a little bit. ;-) Now Boromir fighting Rick? Nice thinking! ;-) That could be a hot little fight, huh? And thanks for Boromir compliments and liking the Gandy-stick scene…lol. I thought it might be pushing it, but Gandy does seem to be a bit of a smart alec when he wants. Thankie, my friend!

**Marx** – Yes, Aragorn is a hottie-butt. ;-) He and Ardeth would so be a cool team to watch. I'd love that! As for that Aragorn scene, it's the opening scene of their part of the tale, the first time you see Aragorn I believe. It's just so theatric and I'm a sucker for that kind of stuff. Just like in FOTR, when they're all coming over the ridge with the LOTR main music on. Love it! Thanks!!

**Lady Dragon** - Thanks! Hot guys everywhere good thing. Don't worry, I won't leave Imhotep a corpse forever. I gotta get my mummy-oggling in before the end of the tale! ;-D I've read Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers, but not Return of the King, so if this story merits enough interest to travel that far, you all might have to wait a year for that portion cause I'm staying as spoiler free of that as I can. :-D

**Karri** – Well, I was going by what I saw in TTT…some of those men had a bit of an Arab thing going with their costumes, the ones with the elephants (I refuse to use that other word! ;-). And the Easterling soldiers had the lined eyes and tannish skin? :-O Thanks muchly…I'm glad I'm not shredding these characterizations. ;-)

**Deana** – Hehehe! I'm glad you thought that was funny! ;-) Thanks, my friend. I'm happy you're enjoying. You should see the movies. ;-D lol.


	7. Pathways Unseen

**A Matter of When**  
Pathways Unseen

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

The silence was getting to him, he knew. Rick pretended for the sake of his pride that it didn't. It didn't seem to bother anyone else after all, even the little guys, so why should it bug him? And that wasn't to say he was afraid, really. Just cautious. There was something very strange about this place, even if the others made no mention. Something very odd indeed, a sentiment shared by Gandalf, or so Rick liked to think. There was something in those wise blue eyes that had taken in the land only an hour previous. A thing lost to him now as he smoked on his pipe and stared at the cooling wood in the center of their small camp.

Rick inhaled deeply and scratched through his stubble, wondering if he couldn't just take that dagger Lord Elrond have leant him and shave with it. _How dignified_, he thought, stretching against a tree to crack his back. He certainly couldn't picture any of those Elves doing any such thing and all the human men seemed to have beards.

Even such carefree thought as that could not make Rick feel any more comfortable with his surroundings, though. What was it that nagged at his mind so relentlessly, anyway? A sweep of the area gave no clue. The sky was the color it should be, the trees shivered in the light breeze. It was not the vision of this Hollin that disturbed him.

"What do you make of this place?" Even his voice seemed to carry unnaturally loud in the atmosphere.

Gandalf's eyes slid from the dead fire to his with a knowing. He removed his pipe and glanced around them. "For long years this place has been devoid of people, but still it seems strangely quiet. But it is early yet to make sudden judgments. We should begin again very soon."

That last seemed to dishearten the Hobbits, who still ate merrily and soaked up the rest offered after their long, seemingly endless trek from Rivendell. But they remained in good cheer and Rick kept his own mindfulness of his mood. His eyes traveled the companions over with interest, but the true destination of his sight was only one of them. Why this Frodo and his magic ring held such a fascination, Rick couldn't be sure, but he shrugged it off every time he examined why. After all, this little person held on a necklace around his throat something more dangerous than any weapon Rick had ever wielded or heard of. Why shouldn't he be curious?

"And when we begin again, where shall our journey take us?" The Dwarf's firm-toned question jarred Rick from his thoughts only too soon. He looked up at Gimli, who sat near the wizard with a glint in his eyes. "The Gap of Rohan would take us a fair stride past our destination and the Redhorn Pass will be watched. The crebain**1** surely attest to that."

The old man narrowed his brow thoughtfully. "Many paths on this journey will be dangerous, Gimli. Despite the danger of spies, my choice would still lie with the Redhorn Pass, whatever perils we would meet. Some ways are less dangerous than others."

"Indeed, they are," Gimli agreed quickly, leaning an elbow on his knee and nodding. "Which is why I have another suggestion. The home of my cousin is beneath the treacherous path over Caradras, Gandalf. What path could be safer than that of my people? A good rest and a stout beer would do any of us good." Of all the companions Pippin brightened the most at this thought. "Such a welcome we would not forget and loathe to leave would be given us."

To Rick that sounded good, really good, but Gandalf seemed to have something else in mind as he mulled it over. He seemed a bit uncomfortable if the ex-Legionnaire had anything to say about it, but as always his answer did not betray one way or another his secrets. "That choice is ahead of us still and need not be made right now."

Rick grinned and patted one of his sidearms. "I still say you should have let me blow every one of those birds to hell."

Gandalf gave him an ironic little look and pulled himself from the ground. "An interesting tale they would have spun to their master, of an arrow that could not be seen and that bore no tail. Come, let us begin again. We have still a long journey ahead of us and a more precarious trip it has already become."

The Hobbits grumbled, two of them, but Frodo remained silent as he stood. Gandalf immediately took the lead when all had been gathered and all the company appeared ready to leave. Gimli followed closely after and upon the wind Rick heard more talk of the Dwarf's kin beneath the mountain. Merry and Sam hovered close to the young-seeming Hobbit that bore the Ring, but Frodo in the end took up behind them. Rick came to his side. "Hey," he began conversationally, looking down. "Get a good rest?"

Frodo offered a smile. "As good as this journey will allow, I think. What about you? Are you accustomed to this sort of adventure where you're from?"

"Not exactly." The ex-Legionnaire inhaled the fresh air and thought of home. Adventure, yes. That he was well acquainted with. His adventures had begun with thievery with an old orphanage mate called Izzy, seeing him one night sleeping in an alley and the next beside belly dancers, rich young girls and even rich ones a decade and a half older than himself. Then came the Legion to repay a debt when he had gotten caught. That had taught him how to behave with the so-called decent folk, but after he had deserted that his business had returned to the shadier sort of work. Yes, he was in good with adventure, but not heroism. "I've been around. Seen my fair share of things." He looked down once more. "What about you? What brings you on this type of journey? I mean, no offence, but I would have pictured a warrior handling this. Of course, most of this world is weird to me. What do I know?"

The Hobbit hopped over a fallen branch that Rick easily strode over. "The Ring came to my uncle, Bilbo. Gandalf says that Hobbits seem more able to resist the temptations of using the Ring. At Elrond's home the Men, Elves and Dwarves all argued over what was to be done with the Ring until finally Elrond revealed what he knew to be the right course. To take the Ring to Mordor. My uncle offered to take it, but he's old. Gandalf told him to stay at Rivendell and finish his book." Frodo smiled with the memory, but the choice that had brought him here still haunted his eyes, a looming fear of the future. "My uncle asked then who would take it and when no one replied…I don't know. Something inside me told me to do it. It sounds silly, doesn't it? But I did what I thought was right. And Elrond agreed."

It might have sounded silly in another tale, one so small making such an offer, but even as small and unthreatening as he was, there seemed to be a certain amount of timid bravery about Frodo. There was fear there, but certainty that he knew he must do what was right. "Doesn't sound silly," O'Connell replied, glancing down at that chain. "It was a noble thing you did. I'm not sure I could have made the same choice in your position." Rick hoped fervently that this bravery didn't get the Hobbit killed.

"One so brave as you?" Frodo asked, looking up. "With that…what did you call it? Gun? With that I should think you would be able to handle lots of danger. Tell me about that fair share of things you say you have seen."

At that Rick gave him a half-grin and cocked his head. "It was nothing so glamorous as saving the world. I used to be a thief."

Sometimes when O'Connell found his vision wandering down that silvery chain Frodo wore around his neck, the Hobbit would catch him. There would be a tense moment between them, an uncertainty born of his newness to the Hobbit's company and the grave burden he bore. Now just as if he had thought of the Ring Frodo looked on him with a momentary wonder of what would happen should this strange human try to take what was not his to have. But there was no proof for it and Rick hoped he exuded enough goodness of his presense to put the Hobbit at ease. He would never interfere with something so important as this. Frodo shrugged aside his worries and shared Rick's expression. "A thief? Why ever would you want to do something like that?"

Rick looked up towards the others and exhaled softly with a fondness of his memories. Good or bad, those had been the days. "'Cause sometimes a man doesn't know what to do, other than what life throws at him."

That statement seemed to strike a chord in Frodo, who nodded and allowed his uncertainty to fade a bit more. O'Connell couldn't help but feel again that this task was unfairly placed.

~~~~~~~

The light was fading and with it would come another cool night for their travel. The walking got the blood to stirring and kept him somewhat warmed, but being accustomed to the desert bringing heat during the daylight hours, Ardeth could not get used to the constant crisp breeze that only grew cooler in the night. Winter was settling into the country to the west, which kept this well-forested area of what Boromir called 'The Old Forest Road' well chilled both during the day and the night.

He saw this as the reason he did not feel well and paid the stinging cut on the base of his throat no mind other than the irritation it provided. He thought of his family, of his father and cousins and mother, wondering what had befallen them. Days had passed and his worry had increased. He was blind to their fates with no hope of knowing and it frustrated him.

No one had come seeking them after the attack of the wraiths and it was Boromir's thought that they would probably meet them on the High Pass or somewhere down on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains, but no such luck had met them. They were alone in finding Lothlorien.

Ahead of him was the Gondorian, paving the way through the thick trees and choosing the easiest paths. They had turned south from the road over the pass and now made their way parallel to a rushing river that Ardeth could hear calling to his left, on towards a place called 'Gladden Fields' where he suspected their destination would be near to. After they had turned off the road the forest had grown steadily denser, causing the wandering three to have to push and shove their way through to make a way. This was a definite contrast to the openness of his homeland. An irritating contrast. Ardeth had not been out of Egypt much in his life and these forested areas were different to him—beautiful, but not home. He felt alone in this alien world, like he was wandering through a dream. Not merely once had he considered this was some sort of spell Imhotep had laid on them. Perhaps he was still in Egypt upon some bed or in the sand, unconscious but home. Or perhaps he and O'Connell had died within Hamunaptra and this was Heaven…or Hell. He couldn't imagine it being either of those, however.

Ardeth brushed a tree from his way, trudging through the crunch of fallen leaves with the hope that Gladden Fields was not too far away. A sudden thwap of a branch and a muttered curse yanked him out of his solemn thoughts. The Hobbit behind glared and rubbed his cheek. "I was feeling a bit hungry, but somehow I don't think tree was what my stomach had in mind."

The Med-Jai stepped aside so the Hobbit wasn't at the rear and Merry passed him quick enough. "I am sorry, my friend. I was lost to my thoughts."

"Yeah," Merry groused, pushing another branch out of his way. "I know the feeling. Boy, what I wouldn't give to be back at home, nestled in my bed. I'd even put up with Pip's nonsense if I could just get some decent sleep for once. When we meet up if he tells me he slept in one bed since the breakup I'll give him something to cry about."

Ardeth grinned and stopped when he and the Hobbit caught up with a now stationary Boromir. The red-haired warrior inhaled deeply and looked around the dimming forest. "I think by night we need not worry for being watched, especially in so think a forest as this. We could chance walking in the open near the shores of the river and perhaps be safe. I am weary of these trees."

"Yeah, likewise," the Hobbit agreed moodily. "Weary of pushing them and eating them!" And without waiting he began towards the east.

The warrior and the Med-Jai exchanged glances, then began to follow after. "I shall keep first watch if you wish," Boromir offered after a short span. "You look tired."

Ardeth brushed a hand across his face and shook his head, side-stepping a tree. "No, I offered to take it when we stopped. I will do it. I'm sure it is nothing." Two hazel eyes met his in unspoken concern, but Boromir said nothing more of it. Unconsciously Bay rubbed his fingers over the little cut marring him, the only wound still fresh after that night. That blade had nicked him good. But he could not afford to worry over it now. It was nothing he had not suffered before. Ignoring it again, the Med-Jai looked his companion over thoughtfully. "I do not suppose you will tell me more of this quest."

The other seemed uncertain, but his choices gave over to something else in his mind besides what Elrond had counseled. Boromir looked into ahead with a now subdued expression and Ardeth had a hunch this quest meant more to him than an assignment given to a skilled fighter. "This quest is important to you," Ardeth said after a handful of moments passed and Boromir nodded.

"Many years have we kept the evils of Mordor at bay," he began, looking down at the ground as if he saw something else. "Many years. Too many. Last year three children wandered alone into the forests in eastern Gondo and went missing for many days…perhaps a week at best. We sent soldiers into the wilds and when we finally found them we discovered that someone else had already gotten to them. Orcs. Creatures of Sauron had found these innocent babes and left little to tell the tale. After that, and even before to be truthful, my people's faith began to fall. That is why we quest. To destroy Sauron's power. Frodo carries his Ring."

Ardeth found he could sympathize with the bothered tone this warrior used. He could remember well the worries of his own people, the wars with other desert tribes and the causalities resulting from them. What would the Med-Jai be like with no hope? The auburn-haired man looked up at him with a sorrowful resolve written in his eyes. "You are their king?" Bay assumed and the other shook his head.

"Gondor has no king," he replied a little gruffly, but conceded to something he wasn't speaking off. "My father is the steward of my country, the closest thing we've had to a king in many centuries. I will be the next steward if the throne remains unclaimed." That drew a certain glare to his eyes, but he made no explanation of the feelings within.

In this tale Ardeth found he was not so different than this man. They both carried the same promise of destiny, that when their fathers could rule no more the responsibility would fall to them. He could understand the drive to see this quest done and this dark lord's power ended. The same drive he had for keeping Hamunaptra quiet and Imhotep in his grave.

They remained quiet on the rest of the short trip through the forest and apart from the water splashing so near Ardeth thought he could hear singing bleed through the trees to where they walked. When they came to the edge of the forest Merry stopped and looked around in wonder. "You hear that? Sounds like Elves."

"Aye," Boromir agreed, searching through the darkness until they saw a light to the south. He pointed towards the telltale sign so near and yet so far. "A _camp_ of Elves, no doubt. I wonder what has brought them out here."

"Could we be near Lothlorien?" Ardeth asked, gazing ahead at the blatant light that came from the camp. It was not orange as a fire would paint, but as if a star had fallen. It was blinding almost and he squinted his eyes.

The Gondorian shook his head, but conceded his uncertainty. "I confess I know not where the Golden Forest is, but I had thought we had days before us." He paused a moment and looked at Ardeth. "Are you unwell?"

Bay denied his discomfort as weariness and focused instead on his companions. "I'm fine. Should we meet them?"

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the fair and clear voices, until Merry spoke up. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'd feel a bit safer in the company of Elves. They know this area and are good folk. Perhaps they would be willing to give us directions. Maybe even Gandalf is with them?"

Boromir nodded as he stared off in their direction. "Perhaps your counsel is the wisest we could heed. I think our friend of the east could use a good rest near a fire as well. We will meet the Elves."

The three companions of the broken Fellowship each agreed and set off to the south with music growing in their ears. The light seemed true and pure and knowing this world Ardeth imagined that under starlight Elves became mythical pixies or some other such western fairytale. This place grew normal enough to his senses but once in a while it would hit him just how strange it truly could be and he had not even gotten his first look at an Orc yet.

As the camp neared so did his discomfort with the light. The singing ended on a beautiful note when the three of the Fellowship came into view and he could see a few of the tall willowy beings stand to greet the strangers. A single form made way towards them, her dress shining and white and her familiar face puzzled, but warm. "Three of you come, but where are the others? We had thought you were ahead of us, not behind."

Boromir bowed his head and Ardeth followed suit. The auburn warrior spoke up. "Lady Arwen. This is indeed a strange meeting. In truth we were set upon by Wraiths and lost the other half of our Fellowship in the woods before the High Pass. We kept to the woods to remain out of the sight of spies and hoped to meet the others, but so far we have not. We decided to chance the shore and in so doing, found you. We hope for at least some direction."

The Elven lady looked into their tired faces with a soft smile. "That we can give and more. Come camp with us." Ardeth watched her deep blue eyes fall upon him and almost looked away at the beauty and light. "My father is gifted with great foresight and felt it wise to send a company of my people to Lothlorien to be sure the Fellowship arrived without fail. I see now why. Are you weary, Ardeth Bay?"

"That's what we've been telling him," Merry supplied for Ardeth before the Med-Jai could speak. "I say he should come back to the Shire with me and have at some of the Old Gaffer's brew, My Lady. That would set him up straight."

Arwen smiled gently at the Hobbit and nodded her head. "I do not doubt that, Master Brandybuck, from the tales I have heard from Mr. Baggins." Her gaze swept Bay over again, seeming a little graver than her mood let on. "But unfortunately my father's brewers have not yet grasped the recipe Bilbo approximated to them. Perhaps rest would do as well, Master Bay?" She held out her fair hand.

He took it, though his knowledge of western delicacy told him it might not be appropriate. He was tired, nothing more. A rest would do him good. "You have my thanks," he replied with a half-lidded gaze that knitted her perfect brow.

"Come," she urged them all and all three settled gratefully with the few Elves gathered around. "Whatever ails you, healing will be found within our company."

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N:** So sorry for keeping everyone waiting…I had to fight myself for ideas on where to take this section because it wasn't covered in the movie and I wasn't sure how much to cover the whole "Hollin" part here either without being too repetitive of the book's stuff or the bird scene in the movie.

In the book it was Aragorn that was quite uncomfortable with the idea and while Gandalf seemed to share his sentiments, he seemed more open to the idea than in the movie. So, which Aragorn not there to express his loathe to enter Moria…hmmm.

1. crebain - black crows that live in Dunland and Fangorn Forest that serve as spies to Mordor.

**Reviewers**:

**Soul** – Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you liked this little story. :-D

**Karri** – Yeah, somehow they just seemed like they would click to me. ;-) At least Movie!Legolas anyway. :-D Thanks, my friend!

**Sigil** – Doh! The Sindar dictionary I have said it meant 'wizard'. One can't trust anyone these days. ;-) Sheesh. I knew I was bound to get something off. Thanks for pointing that out! :-) And thanks for the review! As for another crossover…oye, it's rough just getting this one to cooperate! :-D Lol. Though there were some paths I would have also liked to have explored…I'd love to see Imhotep's take on Middle-earth. I was telling a friend that I bet the Elves could make him a real gentleman by the end of it! :-D

**JadeiteZ** – Thanks! I'm having fun with my little thoughts on Jonny and Legolas's friendship. :-D I think they'd be an interesting duo. :-) I'm very pleased you like!

**Patty** – I'm sure Leggy can take Jonny on, but we'll have to see! ;-D Thanks! Hope you continue to enjoy!

**Marxbros** – Hehe..you could have seen some chemistry at that. Mmm…with him, how could one not? ;-) Ah, he's beautiful. And no, I don't hate Rick/Evy. Just not my usual style. :-) Though I am currently thinking up a Rick/Evy story, if one could believe that. :-O Miracles can happen. Thank you muchly for your compliments, my friend. :-D I'm glad everyone liked the Jonathan and Legolas friendship angle and I'm glad Ardeth's pappy went over well.

**Marcher** – Thank you muchly, my friend…I'm happy you enjoyed this! :-D Yessir, Jonny has himself a new friend fond of the drink.

**Esmerelda** – Thanks for giving it a shot and offering your feedback on it. :-) I'm glad I did well enough to keep you interested! 

**Chianna** – Hey! No, I don't mind, I love when people read my work. :-) Thanks for recommending it! Yeah, I'll try to delve into Aragorn…trying to delve into everyone somewhat…don't like leaving people out! So many characters when added together! :-D Thanks for the review as well! :-D

**Deana** – Thankie, my friend! Yes, I'm sure Abdul looks a fair shade like Ardeth. ;-) I'm glad you liked it! And well, I never write Ardeth as a Chieftain in my stories. ;-) Not sure why, really. :-O

**Mommints** – Thanks for the compliments on everything…I'm happy you liked it well! :-) Ah, Aragorn does have amazing eyes, doesn't he? ;-) Mmmm. I wish to God Two Towers was out on DVD! Anyway, on that offer of throwing around some scenes, sounds cool to me! I'm not all that great at fight scenes though. :-O And on "gray eyes" in Speak Softly, well, I wasn't meaning to turn Nabil into an evil priest, honest! ;-) At the moment I was watching Children of Dune and fell in love with Leto Atreides II and he had blue eyes…but I didn't want to have everyone in my tale have blue or brown eyes…so I thought gray. ;-)


	8. Uneasy Moments Breed Trouble

**A Matter of When**  
Uneasy Moments Breed Trouble

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

He had not even been gifted a single moment within the flow of time to bid her farewell. This thought loomed within the back of his mind and would surface every so often, mostly during quiet times like this. A veil of chilling night blanketed the desert to give them rest from the tireless sun and all were asleep, if not at peace. The deadly beast had not yet shown its terrible face again, but without doubt it still hunted them with the intent of making Evelyn and her unusual companions its bounty.

He was not one to contemplate what would never be. Aragorn thanked the Valar for the safety of his friends and his family, but rarely placed them in perils conjured by his mind. When they were safe, they were safe. Hypothetical worries more often damaged than offered gain. In most cases he held this policy, but one and that without his want. At times he could not evade the possibilities concerning Arwen. If only he had her wisdom to ease his troubled mind. But what would befall her if she were here? He would sooner see himself facing Sauron alone than have her leave the safety of her kin, but he could benefit from her age-old knowledge and optimistic words. Yet she would forever remain worlds and ages apart from him now, if it had been a question before. So he banished his heaviness as best he could and took comfort in the fact that she was safe in the care of her family.

But this place troubled him still and the possibility of remaining here the rest of his days fell ill upon his heart. He would have said farewell, told her to stay with her people and go live in peace, forsaking him and _not_ her immortality, but it had been taken away without any chance of taking it back. The woe that he had been carrying penetrated even his expression this night. "Troubled?" The man across the fire had wisdom about him and the same weight upon his shoulders. He had not been given a farewell to his son.

Aragorn watched Abdul-Medjid Bay in the same way the warrior watched him. Both keen to learn what he could about the other, both recognizing an understanding of the similarities that would seal their fates as allies. This man seemed to be their hope, for without his friendship they would be against sore odds in facing the vile creature alone. The ranger nodded his head once, without care to reveal his mind in the hope that in so doing he would help convince this man that they were not the enemy, neither by choice nor ignorance. "Aye. I think on what I left undone back at home. There are those that are wise who will see my most important pledge fulfilled by another as able as I, but there are certain things a man leaves behind that no other can care for."

Abdul-Medjid seemed to understand this instinctively. "I find myself on the other side. I am one of those left behind to grieve. If you are worried about those you love, I'm sure they know." The Med-Jai rubbed his hands before the fire and looked on as the flames lapped at the air, exhaling as troubled thoughts swept through his own mind. "I know my son loved me."

His voice was calm and certain. Accepting, if touched with the revelation of sorrow. The ranger lifted his gifted water skin to his lips, drank deeply and appreciated this man's awareness of others. "You have a talent for insight, for it is indeed love that troubles me."

The warrior waved him off and inhaled, still watching that fire as if he could see his son living and breathing in its beauty. "Only because I know the feeling so well. You raise a child in the hope that some day he will be stronger, wiser and braver than you ever were or could have hoped to have been. Ardeth has a good head on his shoulders. He is impetuous sometimes and stubborn, but wise and able. Yet he's still my son. Still the boy I held in my arms twenty-five years ago."

"Twenty-five years only," Aragorn reflected, trying to remember what he had been like at that age, over a half-century ago. So few seasons, it seemed, to have your world turned upside down before you could learn to love it with the wisdom of age. Yet if he were anything like his father, perhaps purpose would find him willing and able against the tide sweeping Middle-earth. "He will be well cared for where he is. I know it is no substitute for having him with you, but you need not worry for his safety. Lord Elrond will see to that with great care."

With a nod, Bay accepted his words and glanced towards the Elf keeping watch a small span away from camp. Legolas, who had replaced his son, who the Med-Jai did not like and who Abdul-Medjid felt uncomfortable speaking with. "I hope so." It served to remind Aragorn that they had not yet won this man's esteem yet, compelling him to defend his friend.

"You know we did not do this purposefully," he tested, drawing the Med-Jai's eyes to his again. For what truth lay within him, he hoped it reflected through his gaze and that this man would see it for what it was. "You know he is not at fault and to punish him would only bring more grief. For I see you are an honorable man."

A breeze swept across them as the warrior considered that carefully and with caution. "I believe you. But I will watch."

That was enough for the ranger. Small victories would help the war. "Then I shall hope my actions prove nothing less than the sincerity of my words." Aragorn tilted his head and enjoyed the breeze as silence descended upon them once more.

Sleeping forms called to his vision from nearby, one soft pleasing vision in particular and again he found his thoughts wandering the edges of Arwen's presense. And he felt guilt. _You said you would bind yourself to me, forsaking immortal life._ Forsaking immortal life. Such a heavy price for his love he could not ask, nor allow to be given. It was hers to give and his right to deny it, no matter what his heart wanted for. But now he would be saved from the words he would have spoken, words he would have had to fight himself to speak, knowing the hurt he would cause. Now she would go on and think well of him. But she had deserved a chance to say good-bye and he knew that would weigh on his heart whenever he thought of her.

"Perhaps you will find a way home," Bay suggested, cutting into his troubled thoughts. Aragorn looked up into eyes that wanted to impart comfort instead of suspicion. "You will send my son to me and find the person you mourn the loss of."

The ranger nodded, though he knew that loss had taken place before his disappearance. "Perhaps."

~~~~~~~

Night upon the face of Cairo had brought the strangers within the city a few days later, unannounced and watched sharply by local law enforcement. They had been asked rather calmly to leave their horses at a stable outside the actual limits of Cairo, so the somewhat sizeable group now had the pleasure of walking into town. At least the night air was cool and calming. Evelyn folded her arms together and gave Aragorn a glance, noting how he catalogued their surroundings with great care. She wondered what contrasts he would find here opposing his own home. "What's it like where you come from?" she asked and he immediately gave her the attention of those blue eyes. Evy bit her lip.

Aragorn took an inward breath, gave the city another sweep, then smiled softly. "Much different than here. The air is as clear and soft as a spring, the horizon painted with trees and grass covering your steps. Rivendell is a beautiful place and were it possible I would take you there to see it for yourself."

"Rivendell," she repeated, tasting the word. "It sounds like you come from a forested area. Is Rivendell a big city?"

The ranger shook his head and offered an arm as they walked. With uncalled for butterflies that had no business being in her midsection as far as she was concerned, she accepted. "Rivendell is city, but not as you would call it. The dwellings within are all attached as one big home—my father's home. It is open to the woods and fair, welcoming nature instead of turning it away as these structures appear to. But it is a large home." Suddenly Cairo didn't seem so beautiful to her. She had never termed herself an 'outdoor' woman, but there was something to be said for nature's beauty. He made it sound like a dream.

So she would explore that dream verbally if not by sight. "And your father? What is he like? Is he handsome like you?"

His pleasant expression increased in flattery. "In fact he is not handsome as I, not the father in Rivendell of which I speak. He is handsome in the way Legolas is and the way all Elves are. Lord Elrond is my adoptive father, but closer to an uncle in my bloodline, by many ages."

"I don't understand."

Absently, the ranger pet her hand. "Long ago Lord Elrond had a brother, a twin called 'Elros'. By blood they were both half-elven and by that given a choice. To live as Elves or Men. Elrond chose Elves and Elros chose Men. I am a result of many generations coming from Elros, the first king of Numenor. I was very young when my blood father died and my mother took me to Rivendell. Since my second year I have called Elrond father. He carries the wisdom of nearly seven thousand years."

Evelyn brushed her hair back and swallowed that. "Seven thousand years? How old do Elves live to be exactly?"

"They never die." He smiled softly at the apparent surprise written on her features, but even still there seemed to be a certain sadness in his eyes. "Not by age. They are bound to this earth until the end while Men are freed by death and age to go where the Creator dwells. When they cannot stand the pain of this place they leave it and go to a place made for them that no Man can reach by boat. They are with their family there and live in renewed joy."

And he was born of this. Evy knit her brow, grasping the sorrowfully romantic story he had just told her. It sounded like a fairytale in its bittersweet beauty. "And you…you will live forever? Because you have Elf blood in you?"

"Nay, that is not so. I am more Man than Elf by far and so shall I ever remain." Aragorn inhaled softly and Evy wondered what it would be like to live with such age old beings, knowing one day he would fade away and be gone. But apart from a small glint of something in his mysterious eyes, he seemed untroubled. He had probably accepted his fate long ago.

She turned the group a corner with an absent direction given to the others without turning and smiled as her companion watched a car pass them by. "Truly you are not without your own wonders. My people have not yet harnessed such energies as would drive a machine without the aid of a horse. In truth I know not if the power of the Elves could do this or if they would bother with such an invention. I…"

His musings were cut short suddenly. Salih stopped their stride with a sudden revelation that put a lump in her throat. "They've gone!" Instantly all turned to face him and Evy instinctively scanned the crowed.

"Jonathan?" she called, echoed by Aragorn's concern for his own companion.

"Legolas?"

Abdul-Medjid's face clouded over as they searched the street behind them for any sign of their two missing companions. Evy let Aragorn's arm go and ran her fingers through her hair nervously with Imhotep on her mind. "Leave it to my brother to disappear," she breathed uneasily.

The Med-Jai leader frowned at the ranger beside her, anger in his keen dark eyes. "If this is some form of trickery…"

Aragorn quickly shook his head. "Nay. Legolas would never run, leaving a friend behind and I am sure neither would Jonathan."

Evy pursed her lips, still scanning the crowd. "You don't know my brother."

"Salih, Ameer, go and find them! They can't have gotten far!" Bay barked, sending the two warriors off without a beat. His black eyes glittered dangerously as he again reassessed the ranger.

"Regardless of Evelyn's brother, I know my friend would not go, knowing the dangers both I and these others are in. Least of all in a city that is alien to him." Aragorn's eyes became just as dangerous as the Med-Jai glared him down. "Have you not considered it was the treachery of the creature that hunts us that is responsible?"

Abdul-Medjid's expression remained hard, but a concession dawned in his watch. Not answering the ranger, he turned his attention upon her. "If that is so, then we should seek shelter for the Americans. The museum is across town. How far is your home?"

Evy shook her head. "Ten minutes from here? Not far."

He nodded quickly and scanned the street behind as if it would return the missing party members, then exhaled his frustration. "Tell Hamid here how to get there, then we will go there to wait. Hamid, remain here and wait for our brothers."

The younger Med-Jai nodded and looked to her for direction. She pointed east. "Take this street three blocks, turn left. Take that down two, then turn left again. It will be two houses down on the right side. White with sheer blue curtains in the window." Worry began to settle in, worry and anger at her brother. She couldn't speak for Legolas, of course, but she knew her brother exceedingly well, enough to know he could have possibly made a run for it or more likely decided to have a drink. Perhaps the Elf had noticed her brother leave and went after him.

Sensing her discomfort as Bay gave his remaining Med-Jai orders, Aragorn offered a hand to her shoulder to comfort her and she rewarded it with a wan smile. "Legolas will let no harm come to him." He sounded so firm and sure about that. She wished she could as well.

"What if harm comes to Legolas?" she asked and his surety dimmed. She mentally slapped herself for doing that to him.

But he remained true to his choice to believe otherwise, offering a soft squeeze as he turned to Bay. "Would you trust me to join the search? I have much experience with tracking and can find this location again once I begin, and from here find the home that was described. You may go with her without fear and for the protection of the others, for I give you my word I will not leave her to danger and never return. The care I have already placed on her should testify to that."

Bay took only a few seconds to consider it with eyes that gave Aragorn a promise that should be fail to keep his word there would be trouble. "Go," he said and Aragorn wasted no time in beginning the search. Evy folded her arms and watched him disappear around the corner. The Med-Jai inhaled deeply. "Come. We should take shelter. With hope we may hide for a time until we can learn how to beat the creature."

Evelyn turned back towards her home, swallowed and tried to push aside worry that it was Imhotep stalking them. _You know Jonathan. He does this._ Still, it bothered her. This wasn't thugs or criminals. This was something as unreal as Elves. "Do you think it was the creature?" she asked a little tensely, falling into step with the warrior at her side.

He looked down at her softly and shook his head. "I do not know. But I'll do everything in my power to protect you."

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N:** Sorry this has been a while, but ah…yeah. :-D Sowwy! And sorry for the mistakes last chapter. Even I'm beginning to wonder if I wasn't drunk when I wrote it! :-O

**Reviewers**:

**TrinityTheSheDevil** – Mmm…yes. Aragorn and Ardeth together. I only regret not having them paired to fight together! :-O They're so alike though…so purty and sweet and perfect. ;-) There should be more men like them! Thanks!

**Sigil** – Thank you muchly! :-) I'm always wondering how those characterizations go…I haven't written much LOTR, so I'm still trying to grasp the flow of it. Thanks! And I enjoyed taking a browse of your stories…if memory serves I need to go see if you updated a Star Wars story yet…hmm. Thanks!

**JadeiteZ** – Thanks! :-D Yeah, that would be something, seeing Rick all Gollumed out. Quite interesting…muahaha! ;-) Thanks muchly for the review!

**WePo** – RE: Ardeth and Aragorn meeting: I don't know…not unless I can think of a logical reason for them to. I have one, but I'm not sure if I'll do it yet…so we'll have to see. Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying!

**Wellduh** – Thanks! :-D

**Lady Foxfire** – Not sure…Rick doesn't have the concern over honor Boromir does, and that may or may not be helpful in terms of what sort of mentality it takes to fall for the Ring. Muahaha! ;-) Thanks!

**Mommints** – Thanks, my friend! I'm happy you're enjoying this…this is one of the harder ones I've written. :-O As for what's wrong with Ardeth, well, hehehe. Hmmm, what is wrong with Ardeth? ;-) That shall be explained in further chapters…I've been doing my LOTR research! :-D Thanks for the review and whenever you want to toss around scenes, I'm up for it. Just lemme know what, where, how and if Ardeth's nekked. ;-)

**Lula** – Hehe…glad you've caught up and thought it good enough to bother! :-D As for Ardeth, he's in a spot of trouble…can't say how bad or for how long this will bother him though. ;-) You'll see if you stick around. :-D As for Ardeth's father, I like to picture him as a tenser, seasoned Ardeth. Mmmm. One can never get enough of the Bay men. ;-) Thank you so much for your compliments! They mean a bunch!

**Patty** – I'll be continuing this one until it's done…it gets the most reviews, I'd be nuts not to! ;-) It's just harder sometimes, meshing and writing so many characters. :-O Yes, the Bilbo bit was from the book. He did offer, but was too old to take such a heavy burden. Interesting, the changes from book to movie, eh? As for worry about Ardeth…perhaps a bit. And Ardeth/Arwen? An interesting idea! I think they would be good for each other, given he's so like Aragorn…she's a quiet, optimistic soul that would do Ardeth good after a fight. Thanks!

**Karri** – Hehe…yeah, never put it past Jonathan to get into trouble and I think Legolas has a bit of a mischievous nature himself, at least as characterized in the movies. Loved his banter with Gimli. ;-) Anyway, thanks for the reviews, my friend! :-D I'm glad you're enjoying this.

**Marcher** – Thankie! I'm glad you liked the part with Rick and Frodo…you're the Rickybug expert! Thanks for sticking with the story! :-D

**Deana** – Something wrong with Ardeth…you mean apart from the obvious? ;-D Aye, something's wrong. Poor guy…I just can't not hurt that boy! ;-) Thanks!


	9. Some Things Never Change

**Bloodlines**  
Some Things Never Change

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

"I don't hear anything." It was apparent in everyone's thoughts, but voiced only by Pippin. The Hobbit darted glances within the shadows cast by the light bleeding off his torch and the stone at the top of Gandalf's staff. To tell the truth Rick himself was a bit watchful of this quiet place. Ever since he had seen those two glaring green orbs of light within the dim, ever following and ever whispering, the ex-Legionnaire had felt fairly ill at ease. Gandalf had quickly assured them that what followed was not a Ringwraith and though dangerous, was not of immediate concern, but Rick had caught one of those stray mutterings of 'precioussss' and it wasn't anything he cared to hear ever again.

As he had it this Gollum creature wanted the Ring, would kill to get it and by all O'Connell's calculations should be dead at nearest convenience, but for some reason the old wizard wouldn't have it. When Frodo suggested it was a pity his uncle hadn't killed Gollum when he had the chance, Rick had been quick to flash his gun with a suggestive little look on his face, but Gandalf dismissed them both, saying this thing had a part to play for good or evil. Rick understood a command structure and recognized the old man as the leader of their little unit, so he didn't kill the creature as Frodo seemed to have wanted—as he himself wanted once he got a good look at that thing staring from the dark, but he did resolve to keep his eyes open and if the creature attacked, command structure or not, he was going to give it a good taste of led.

Knowing things like Gollum crept around the dark made this trip a little more precarious for all of them. It was dark and silent and smelled of the dust of the earth. Gimli inhaled deeply with a bothered but firm expression as he answered the Hobbit. "Aye, 'tis true we should be hearing the sounds of my kin by now, as close as we are to the great city. But there is still hope. Still hope…" He trailed off, gazing at the path ahead as if in search.

Rick shared a look with Gandalf, seeing the wizard didn't seem too hopeful. There had been a certain air about him ever since they had entered this place, as if he knew ill would come of it. And when they came upon a single, large archway his pensive expression increased. Only dark filtered from beyond that doorway. Their guide was the first to enter and as the light from his staff gave them more vision he announced their arrival.

It was cold, lonesome and oddly beautiful. Huge and monumental, this mountain dwelling had to have taken ages in the making. As they entered the main hall of the city Rick lifted his torch, looking up into the heights for the ceiling. Beyond them were many enormous support columns, each finely crafted with elegant care and O'Connell whistled his appreciation. The Dwarf fixed him the a proud grin, the closest he had come from his bout of fear instilled by the sight of many small bodies at the long-forgotten gate, and somewhere within the dim Rick heard Sam breathe, "Now there's an eye-opener, ain't no mistake." Eye-opener was an understatement. A sudden wonder assailed him, at what vast treasures would lay within a city so huge and so fine, and so close to a sizable deposit of the glittery mineral Gandalf had called mithril.

But there were no signs of life as they had been prepared for, no breath of life to this place, no gathering of Dwarves to greet them. The thought of wealth was immediately forgotten when Gimli's eyes strayed to a room nearby that was illuminated by a single beam cast upon what looked like an altar. Without words the Dwarf took off towards this room in a near panic, drawing all attention from the massive and haunting architecture. Rick sidled up to Gandalf's right and said, "What's going on?"

The wizard started for the doorway with a glance. "We shall soon see."

"Right," O'Connell exhaled. Looking to the Hobbits he shrugged, then followed. The sounds of Gimli's grief could be heard even before they hit the threshold and what seemed to be an unimposing room could now be clearly seen for what it was. Rick looked down at the 'altar' and decided grimly it looked much more like a sarcophagus. A very small one.

Gandalf gazed at the strange markings chiseled on the top of the great stone and read the words aloud. "Balin son of Fundin. Lord of Moria." At the vocal confirmation of what his eyes beheld Gimli let out a cry of anguish and Rick sighed uneasily. If this place had been attractive before it was even less so now. Obviously they had expected living Dwarves here, even if Gandalf had been wary of this place. Something had to have cleared the little craftsmen out of here. Something that could still be here.

Something that might have been following them all along, it occurred to him suddenly and Rick looked up at the great wizard. "Gollum?" he assumed and was surprised when Gandalf shook his head, handing Pippin his staff and hat, then bending to grab something from the hands of one of Gimli's people. Rick peered down and saw what the wizard was after—a dusty leather-bound book. It opened with a papery sound and as soon as Gandalf read the first few lines Rick turned away. He had read the diaries of his own missing or killed men back when he was in the Legion. He knew the words of men who thought they were living their final days. He knew nothing of Dwarves or their love of life beneath the mountain, but the thought of being trapped down here with death breathing down one's neck chilled Rick and made him want to be out of this place.

Absently listening, he stepped away from the group with Pippin as the wizard read the terrible words of how the Dwarves couldn't get out. The two retreated to a nearby well together and shared an uneasy gaze with a corpse seated in the edge. Held up by the stiff metal of its armor it remained upright as if the little person within were merely resting and the Hobbit breathed, "Would you look at that." A tiny spear met their attention and instantly both reached a finger tentatively towards the sharp edge.

They paused mid-air when Gandalf stopped reading and warned, "Mind what you touch! There still may be things living within the dark, no matter that we have not heard a sound of them."

Both hands retreated from the spear, but as Rick turned towards the group Pippin took a wrong step on a fallen shield and slipped. As the smaller being toppled over and into the ex-Legionnaire, O'Connell felt himself lose balance and when he tripped he instinctively reached for anything to break his fall. The well raced up to his chest, knocking the wind out of him. A crashing sound filled the air with startling volume. The Hobbit pulled himself up off Rick with a muttered apology that he barely registered, trying to get air into his chest as he shoved himself up from the well. As sanity came easing back into him he became aware that all eyes were fixed upon the well in expectation. The little suit of armor was now gone.

After a span of heartbeats a final crash jolted the small party and together Rick and Pippin leaned over the well to peer into the depths as silence settled once again. "Well," he breathed, rubbing his chest and giving the Hobbit a wry look. "Shit." Took blinked.

Another crack filled the air, a sound more present, less thunderous and a little more immediately bothersome. Rick and Pippin winced as Gandalf closed the book and fixed them with a glare. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips before even the first was uttered. The pounding of their hearts seemed to be answered by a new pounding beneath their feet and a strange sound began to urge closer. It sounded almost like…voices. Rick raced his eyes to the wizard whose eyes confirmed the fear of something heading their way.

"Frodo!" Sam suddenly gasped, pointing towards the other Hobbit's belt. The Ringbearer wasted no time in pulling his little sword from its sheath to reveal a finely etched blade glowing an intensely soft blue.

The barely discernable voices became clearer and Rick swallowed when Gandalf said darkly, "Orcs." His blue eyes raced to the ex-Legionnaire. "The door! We must bar the door! Gimli, the axes!"

O'Connell pushed himself forward towards the door and gripped each side, closing them in a hurry as adrenaline pulsed through him. Outside in the main hall he had seen something, some body of dark warriors carrying torches, and they had looked anything but human. He could hear taps raining against the door as he leaned his back against the now closed off entrance. Gandalf raced towards him with a tall axe and Gimli close behind with another. "What the hell are we gonna do?" he asked, taking an offered weapon to hold the door.

The wizard's reply was quick and less than Rick might have felt comfortable hearing. "Hope."

The Dwarf left them to the door and growled, climbing into the sarcophagus of his fallen cousin with a confident, "Let them come! There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

The door jarred with a blow from the outside and O'Connell drew his guns, saying dubiously, "_Let them come?_"

Gandalf shared a glance with him, and then drew his own weapon. "They _are_ coming, but we may yet prevail. This may be your finest hour, Rick O'Connell."

Somehow the fifty or so able-bodied warriors right outside that door didn't fill Rick with such a hope. "Oh, right," he breathed sardonically and the wizard's lips tilted into a smile. He shrugged off his building fear and used it to fuel his fire. "At least we'll go out fighting the good fight."

~~~~~~~

He was not quite sure why, but as he passed through the trees he felt himself becoming restless of spirit. The auburn-haired Lord of Gondor had been eyeing this place warily ever since they had entered the Golden Wood, but even he seemed effected by this place. The Hobbit was quiet for once as he gazed around them in awe. It was as if the very stars had taken up residence in this ethereal city. The Lady Arwen and her Elvish companions seemed to glow in peace and joy.

As they made their way up a long set of stairs Ardeth stretched forth his hand and brushed seeking fingers against the tree around which the staircase was wound, taking in the texture of the bark in wonder at something so rough in so fair a dwelling. As the tips of his fingers hit upon the surface there was a flash of feeling, something probing and uncertain. It caused him to draw his hand back and look around for the eyes upon him, for one so trained as he knew when someone was keeping a watch over him. But he found no evidence of it in the high trees. Beside him the Elf-princess seemed to smile in amusement. She stayed always near him, caring for him unlike he had ever experienced, but always in silence about what was happening. He did not doubt it any longer. Ardeth knew he was ill. She knew it as well and what was more, he thought perhaps she knew what it was that ailed him.

The high climb did not wear him out as much as he would have expected. Though Ardeth could not guess at the number of stairs they had traversed, he could see they were enough to tax him in his present condition. But this placed breathed of life and of ease and healing. It was in the atmosphere, such peace as he had never known and even this hard-weathered man of the desert found he was loathe to consider leaving. Yet despite the comfort here he could feel something else, something that warned him this place would be deadly to a foe. It was in the stance of the warrior-Elf leading them upwards, in the trees, in the greenery and in the very air. Beautiful this city was and soothing, but beneath the surface he could feel a current of power that was strong and clean and hard. This Caras Galadhon was a finely crafted blade, pleasing to the eye and deadly to those that tested its strength. It was tense and kept him from completely giving over to ease.

Somewhere she had looped her arm into his and he had accepted without notice until now. Soft, ivory fingers stroked his own and kind blue eyes tried to reassure him. "You will find rest here, Master Bay. Carry no discontent."

He inhaled the clean air deeply and swept the beauty over once more before looking back into her face. Even one so young in appearance as she seemed infused with ages of knowledge. "This place…" he began, but trailed off under her gentle gaze. This place breathed of a rest he had craved for so long.

"Do you enjoy this place?" she asked in her quiet voice and he nodded truthfully. A smile curved her full lips as she again set to petting his hand. "You have a good heart, warrior. Have no fear of this place. I am here with you." Her comfort fell well upon his burdened heart.

They came to the top of the stairs to a platform suspended far from the ground, a silvery floor with leaves finely etched into its surface and no railings. Near the edge the Med-Jai peered over into the depths. An Elven woman watched them curiously from a platform nearby with a child—a pretty little girl crowned with platinum hair and gazing through bright blue eyes, and Ardeth shuddered inwardly at the thought of someone falling to their death. Yet somehow he knew it had never and would never happen.

Ahead of them the warrior not unlike himself and yet so radically different led them to where they would meet the proprietors of this land. Haldir had met them at the beginning of the forest, greeted his Elven kind warmly and yet took in the strangers with an expression bordering on suspicion. The Elves of Lothlorien seldom get visitors of other races, the raven-haired Elf-maid had explained to him and Ardeth agreed the man's watchfulness befitted what he was. So like him, yet so different. Alien, graceful and ages older. These Elves troubled him with their grace and infinite knowledge, but it had given him comfort to recognize something he could identify with in them. The Marchwarden stopped at the foot of a set of stairs and addressed the woman beside him. "Lady Arwen, your acquired companions should remain here. I will take you and the others up to greet the Lord and Lady, if you wish."

The Elf-maid let go of Ardeth's hand. "Very well, Marchwarden. You have my thanks." Haldir nodded and began with the other Elves on up and Arwen turned back. "I will speak in your favor with my grandmother. Be at rest and in mere moments you will be called for." Then sweeping her skirts of silver into her hand, she too disappeared up the stairs.

"If I could have a place like this built in the Shire," Merry commented as he looked around, shaking a thoughtful finger. "I'd have to be richer than even Old Bilbo's _rumored_ wealth."

Boromir nodded in awe as well, his eyes both mystified and troubled. "Aye, but I doubt even wealth could see a place like this put anywhere else put upon the face of Middle-earth. There is sorcery at work here."

There was no doubt of that even in Ardeth's mind, but despite Arwen's gentility he wondered how such power could keep from tempting even the fair Elves with possibilities of domination. They could easily take the world if they so desired, yet they remained quiet and secluded. He absently raked a hand across his throat and inhaled as he pondered. "Are you feeling well?" Boromir asked him, taking notice with concerned eyes. Ardeth nodded and pulled his hand away from himself.

"What type of people are we dealing with?" he asked, wanting to steer clear of the subject of his weakness.

The Gondorian opened his mouth to answer, but the voice was not his, but Haldir's. "You are dealing with a people you should be wary of," he said as he came down from the top slowly, but his eyes bore no threat. Merely confidence and perhaps a touch of arrogance. Perhaps they were not so immune to the lure of condescension as one would believe at first glance of the race. The Elf inclined his head and spread his hand, inviting them up. "The Lord and Lady will see you."

Boromir took the lead and Merry and Ardeth followed after, ascending the stairs promptly. Light and shadow increased on up as if a star had would be revealed on up. When they reached the top the Med-Jai inhaled and held it, looking on two forms sitting upon two finely crafted chairs, the woman's hand draped over the male's. They were beautiful, wise-seeming and disquieting to say the least. Beside her youthful grandmother Arwen stood waiting for them.

The elder woman demanded the attention of all, however, by the sheer strength of her presense. She was elegant and graceful as she stood up from her place, walking towards them with unknown purpose. Lady Galadriel swept her eyes over Boromir first and this hardened warrior that spoke of fighting deadly Orcs and evils seemed to shrink back. Bay knit his brow, determined to face this head on.

When her eyes came to his he saw stars in them. They were so bold for a woman and even for a man of his world, so wise and penetrating as if she could divine all of his secrets and foretell his future from one look. "The Fellowship has broken," she said in a soft voice, but softer still was the voice that resounded like thunder and gentle stream-water within his mind. _Welcome, Ardeth Bay of the Med-Jai. The daughter of my daughter speaks most highly of you._ Her eyes traveled down his face to his injury and back again almost sorrowfully, as if she were seeing his death in her thoughts. _You will find healing. You are not here without purpose._ The echoing promise behind that statement made his mind flit back to visions of his people and again he felt the grief of being away from them. Galadriel understood this, he could see. When her gaze left him for the Hobbit he felt relieved, but the eyes stayed with him, haunted him with the vast knowledge contained there. She was ordinary by no means. "The quest is perilously close to failing. And Gandalf, I fear, is lost."

This brought them all out of their momentary reverie and it was Boromir that spoke first. "Lost? How do you know this? What has happened?"

The male who had been seated came from his chair with grave, wise eyes. This was Celeborn, Arwen's grandfather, who she described as merry and kind. He could see also this man was bold and refined. "This we do not know, but I can sense him no more. All has gone wrong from the beginning of this quest and the outlook is grim."

Lord Celeborn's words were spoken gravely, his voice delivered with an edge. It carried the weight of the quest with it, to which his wife aptly supplied a mirror counterpart equally as grave, "But there is yet hope." Her eyes watched Boromir with concealed thoughts, then moved again to the Ardeth and the Hobbit. "Riders will be sent and we gathered here will watch and hope the remainder of your company find their way here, for such would have been their intent."

"But with Gandalf gone that leaves only a stranger, a Dwarf and three Hobbits, if even they survived what befell Gandalf," Boromir countered. "Can they find their way here? Can we trust…" He trailed off with a sidelong glance at Ardeth and the Med-Jai knew what he was getting at. Rick O'Connell.

So did Galadriel, who turned her gaze onto him with a question in her eyes. "Do you believe he would lead them astray?"

Ardeth knit his brow, searching himself as much as she seemed to. For all the importance of this matter he realized he knew O'Connell no better than he knew these people, perhaps even less. Should he know whether or not the American would betray the trust of these strangers? Maybe it was her constant, piercing gaze or some sort of mental suggestion or himself, but Ardeth's mind traveled back to Rick's eyes. A lot could be learned simply by looking through the windows to a man's soul. "No," he replied uncertainly, shaking his head. "I do not believe that he would." Though the American had trespassed into Hamunaptra despite his warning three years previous, Ardeth could not see betrayal as a part of his character.

She seemed satisfied with this and turned back to the Lord of Gondor with a more business-oriented tone. "The Dwarf will know how to get here. He will lead them here."

"And will you welcome him?"

Boromir had told mentioned the tensions between Dwarves and Elves and he had seen the evidence of it in Haldir's face when Gimli had been mentioned, but not in this woman's face. "What is required shall be done, Boromir of Gondor. Even he shall find rest here."

They would also find rest and the meeting had come to a close, it seemed. Lord Celeborn spread a hand a looked over the company with friendly eyes. "But you are weary as well, are you not? There is time yet to speak of these matters after you have been refreshed. Come and I will show you to rest and to dinner."

The Elf-Lord turned and Boromir and the Hobbit followed after with a parting glance at the remaining Lady and her grandchild. Ardeth made to do the same, but found himself immobile when a light hand touched his sleeve ever so gently. He turned into care and wisdom within blue eyes and found himself holding his breath. Should she call herself an angel Ardeth would doubt it not, so powerful was the smallest of her glances. "Arwen tells me you are wounded," she stated and the Med-Jai nodded, feeling the pain with his reminder. He felt like a child in the presense of this stranger. _But you are a child_, she told him with a kind smile as she stretched her hand towards him and laid it over this sliced flesh. "Ardeth, tolo ar lasto nastrad beth nîn."**1**

The words she spoke as she urged him away from the path the others had taken were alien, but effective. It felt suddenly as if some unknown force had just loosened its grip on him, but the dark tendrils that had crept around his heart were still present. His body felt suddenly charged and shaking past the sudden cloud over his mind, he stopped following so blindly. He knew not if he cared to be separate from the others in such a place as this. "What have you done? Where are you taking me?"

It was Arwen that replied from beside him, her hand brushing his arm and her eyes alight with a concern that compelled him to obey for now. "Have no fear. We take you to healing, Ardeth. All will be well. Please, trust in me."

"Many things you will see, warrior, that will trouble you further still," Galadriel spoke truthfully. "Many things will change how you perceive the world in which you live for your remaining years, be it here or whence you came. Take rest from good when it is offered."

The Med-Jai nodded then, the trouble inside still present, but his distrust dissipating beneath such care and honesty as he found within their eyes.

"All right."

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N:** Again, sorry for the lateness of this installment. :-O I decided to go with the movie version of what happened in Moria. :-O

**1.** Ardeth, tolo ar lasto nastrad beth nîn. **Approximately:** Ardeth, come and listen to my healing words.

**Reviewers**:

**Stormhawk** – Thanks for checking this out! Glad you enjoyed the Hobbits…yes, who wouldn't want to invade Elrond's rooms? ;-) Well, I would anyway. :-D Anyway, glad you liked this. :-) Thanks again! I'll be checking in on your Matrix stories again shortly! Must have more! ;-)

**Mommints** – Hey, thanks for reading despite that jerk RL. ;-) Glad you're enjoying…as for what's wrong with Ardeth, well, uh…I'll get into that next Ardeth installment? :-D ;-) Like to keep people wondering. Anyway, look forward to more of your work!

**Lula** – Thanks! Well, I mean it's not that Abdul HATES Legolas or whatever…it's just, imagine your son disappearing and someone else being left in their place. Not that you'd hate them, but I dunno…I would think that person might make you feel uncomfy, especially if you aren't sure if that person wasn't responsible for your son disappearing. :-\ I mean I totally agree with you on Legolas's air of trustworthiness and all, but I dunno…Abdul doesn't know Leggy the way we do. Anyhow, thanks! :-D

**Patty** – hehehe…yeah, Aragorn's a real gentleman…I could see him doing that. *lesigh* ;-) Thanks! Glad you're enjoying!

**JadeiteZ** – Thanks again, glad you're enjoying. :-D I wanted to capture that Aragorn isn't like over over Arwen…you know? Hmm. Anyway, hope you enjoy and we'll be finding out what happened to Jonny and Leggy next chapter. :-)

**Pheonix** **Tears** – Hey! Hehe! Thanks a bunch! Glad you like…Legolas is extremely cute. ;-) I've thought of Evy/Legolas…might have taken the story this way too…just not sure. Hmm. Have to see what inspiration comes, whether I want her with Aragorn or Leggy or even Rick if he makes it home. :-D Thanks for that challenge? Mind if I add it to my website? I might take you up on that, given that I love to pile more work on myself. ;-) Thanks!

**Marcher** – Thanks…I'm glad you like what I've done with Aragorn…first time stepping into his POV so I was like, "Okay…let's not make him retarded." ;-) Glad you liked it, my friend. *lesigh* Love that Aragorn.

**Karri** – Lol…yeah, poor Legolas. ;-) But hey, he's got Jonathan! :-D Lol. Um…yeah…that won't get him into too much trouble…I hope. ;-) Thanks for reading!

**Deana** – Good question. ;-) :-D What DID happen to Leggy and Jonny? My guess? A swaggering pirate with a limp and his feisty parrot Ling-Ling waylaid them in the alley looking for crackers. ;-) :-D Thanks, my friend!


	10. Kittens and Kings

**Bloodlines**  
Kittens and Kings

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

The dawn lingered upon the horizon, shadowing the world in a soft pink hue that was a peaceful and pleasant beginning to an otherwise worrisome day. Aragorn sat within a comfortable chair, his tired body stretched over it and a pensive expression written across his features as he watched her watch the morning. Evelyn stood against the window at the head of the room, had been there for some time and looked as if she would not move anytime soon. Her delicate hand drew back the curtain so that her view was unobstructed and those deep brown eyes of hers waited for her brother, each dark pool carrying a myriad of emotion.

She was afraid for him, just as he was for Legolas. He knew not Jonathan Carnahan, but his Elf friend simply did not disappear without good reason. Of course that was not to say he never disappeared. There had been occasions while hunting that the situation had called for it. Legolas was an able fighter, more than capable of taking care of himself and that above all else kept Aragorn from overmuch worry. There was yet time and the Med-Jai still searched abroad.

But Evelyn had not the same confidence in her kinsman that was lost. Her face betrayed fear that he was hurt, irritation that he had gone without her knowledge and even anger, for she knew this could be nothing more than a side trip. He saw it when she turned, looking him over. A stray band of brown hair made its way into her eyes and the young girl brushed it aside with a weary breath and sat down in a chair beside him. "This is just like him," she said in open irritation, which caused him to straighten.

The ranger leaned closer and watched her pretty eyes lighten when she looked up. "You should take rest." He gave a glance towards the kitchen occupied by Bay and another of his men. "We know not when this Imhotep beast will return, but it is certain he will not tarry long in seeking us out. Legolas is with your brother and where my friend is trouble seldom has victory."

Evy awarded him a smile as she touched his hand. "I know and I'm thankful that someone with a degree of responsibility could be looking out for him, but that's partly what has me worried. What if…?"

"My Lady…" He said it softly, slowly and saw the light dawning in her eyes. So pretty, so fair and strong of character. Aragorn looked away suddenly. "My Lady, think not of what could be. Worry will aide them none. I will search again if you wish." Yet despite himself he could not keep his eyes averted for long, bringing again feelings of guilt and longing for that which he could never have.

The mortal woman before him shook her head softly. "You were out nearly all night. I'm not the only one that needs rest, you know. Are you hungry?"

"Nay. Not yet." Aragorn exhaled and sat back against the chair again, his vision straying to a picture above the fireplace of a young Evelyn in the arms of a women she had called her mother. It was remarkably sharp and perfect. "I confess I am weary, but time will not allow me to rest much. If our friends do not return within the hour I shall go hunt again. _You_ should rest, however. I will keep watch over our demanding captors and be certain they do not disturb anything within your home."

She gave him a little look and he supposed in the long run that was of little comfort, for she knew him every bit as little as she knew the Med-Jai. Yet within her eyes there seemed to reside a measure of trust. He found himself taken with that trust and wanting to prove it rightly placed. Which again drew his eyes from her. Yet with him she remained. "I think I'll wait a little bit longer before I give up. Oh, drat that Jonathan! If this turns out to be some silly outing or if he's abandoned me, so help me, I'll let those Med-Jai have him."

The ranger grinned and looked absently towards the white door that remained dreadfully silent. He had little doubt those Med-Jai would hold back under such circumstances. He did not voice that opinion to her, however. Another quiet moment sprang up between them and he thought again of long lost home. It seemed to him he had been away so long already, though it was but a moment to time and to Legolas. How did little Frodo and his Hobbits fair? Gandalf was ever wise and others could be found to replace he and the Elf that was missing. Elladan, perhaps and Elrohir. Even the Marchwarden Haldir of Lorien. Yet there was an emptiness inside he knew could not be stayed by the comfort of knowing others could take his place.

For they could not. Not truly, not _his_ place in time. Oh, he was not so immodest as to suggest no one was as able as he, but he felt a part of his destiny had been ripped away. _There is no other._ Elrond had said this to him, bidding him to take up his rightful place as a king. To destroy the One Ring as his forefathers could not. The destiny he was afraid of taking, for he wanted not that power. The price of Arwen's hand. It was no more. His responsibility, the burden of three thousand years was gone, never to be redeemed. What would he do here in this strange land, so far from the title Elrond said he should take? Boromir would take Gondor and lead it and produce an heir. And if Frodo failed to destroy the Ring…

"What are you thinking?" Her question was innocent and his answers hard pressed.

Aragorn met her questioning with a breath. "My place in this world and at home. Things I had feared to do and have now avoided, but cause me despair even still."

Evy's face softened. "Despair? What's going on back at your home?"

The answer was simple, yet infinitely complex. "War." Her eyes widened slightly as he continued in somber tones. "I was to unite my people. Now I cannot lead them. I cannot fight the final war between Middle-earth and Sauron, the Dark Lord who destroys all that is good. My destiny is gone. All that my father had prepared me for. All that I did not trust myself to do, for fear the dark powers would take me as they took my ancestors before me. I did not want that destiny, but alas without it I feel empty."

"A king? You were to be a king?" she assumed and he nodded, thinking on the man he had met in Rivendell, of Boromir of Gondor, who would succeed Denethor and take the throne. Boromir who wanted to use the Ring. The weariness of Aragorn increased upon thoughts of him, settling deep into his bones as home drifted away again. _May the Valar guide him where I cannot go. Let not the darkness fall upon his rule._

"You would have been a good king." Her voice seemed certain of its path in the dim morning, despite all she knew not of him. Her countenance proclaimed it was no flattery, merely a supposition based upon what she _did_ know. And with it came comfort, precious little. "You may make it back home."

He could only hope. "Aye, my Lady. Perhaps I…" He stopped, hearing a strange thing outside that captured his tongue. It caught his ears sharply and caused him to sit straight even as Evelyn was on her feet and moving to the window. It sounded like…singing. Both terrible and slightly less beautiful than normal. Aragorn's brow narrowed as he stood for what came.

"My brother!" Evy hissed, marching for the door and pulling it open with force. "Just where were you two!?"

Up the walk came Jonathan leaning heavily upon an Elvish companion and the ranger searched Legolas for any sign of what he was sure to be insanity. There was none of that, merely the odor of drink and a sober-yet-slightly-drink-enhanced mood. His tone was both puzzled and concerned. "Legolas, I…"

The Elf grinned and helped Jonathan onto a stair to sit. "Say nothing, for I know what I would hear, Aragorn. Jonathan escaped from the group late last night and I went to follow him."

"We got a little sidetracked," the inebriated brother informed Aragorn seriously. He was quickly rewarded with a slap to the arm and a vexed expression from his sister. "Only a little."

The ranger eyed his friend a little coolly. "Followed him, did you? And this noble deed took the whole of night?"

Legolas shook his head freely. "Nay. The fault is not entirely mine. He is a slippery one, your brother, my Lady. And I got lost in this strange town." Deep sapphire eyes glinted a little with that.

"Lost?" Aragorn raised his brow and the Elf nodded. "Would that be lost within a tavern, by chance?" His friend cocked his head a little.

"Aye, there was a little of that." Greenleaf made no pretense of feigning innocence, nor announced sorrow for guilt. The ranger inhaled deeply, reminding himself of his friend's sometimes unexpected humor. Misplaced at times and altogether present now.

But before more questions could be given another sound caught his attention. An experienced ranger knew of these things and he knew the oncoming change in weather was not natural, for it came too fast and with much power at its disposal. The wind suddenly picked up and thick dust filled the air. It was familiar and yet not so violent as their other meeting with Imhotep. Aragorn gripped the hilt of his sword as Legolas peered down the clearing street. "What do your Elf eyes see, my friend?"

Legolas gave him a little smile and muttered, "As opposed to my human ones, mellon nîn?"

The ranger resisted irritation. "Never mind the ill-effects this place is having on you. Just tell me what I wish to know, will you?"

"Aye, aye." Legolas continued to search the streets as the dust swirled. Scarce little time passed before the Med-Jai joined them with questions on their lips that halted when the now completely sober Elf hissed, "The creature comes!" His arm stretched and before long they too saw the hooded figure.

"Hooh, shit!" echoed with the wind song upon the air and Henderson backed into the door, caught between entering the house again and remaining. "I don't suppose you Med-Jai got any bright ideas?"

Aragorn watched Bay stare the creature down and he recognized that look. A foreboding of destiny. The Med-Jai Chieftain took an uneasy breath, then looked at his nephew. "Take one of the Americans and go to the museum. You know where it is?" The young warrior nodded quickly. "I will handle the other remaining and together we shall pray Allah's mercy and help."

Salih was quick to grip the jacket of a protesting Henderson and drag him from the home, followed by another Med-Jai. Abdul-Medjid looked the remaining members of their group over. His dark eyes rested upon Aragorn. "It now becomes a question of who Imhotep will chase first. Strength is not in numbers against him, therefore I suggest we separate into three groups. I and the remaining Med-Jai will remain here to distract the creature. Aragorn, take the woman from here and Legolas, take the brother and Daniels. Take separate directions and do not follow after Salih. Hide, flee, do as you must but above all else Daniels must live. Return here when the creature has moved on."

"Nefertiri!" The voice was sharp, otherworldly and filled with loathsome triumph. Time was no ally to them in this. Aragorn nodded his agreement to Bay before meeting the eyes of Legolas one last time before parting.

"What strange fate," Legolas mused through a smile that reassured him they would meet again.

Aragorn clapped his shoulder and took Evelyn's hand. "Truly, mellon nîn. Be well."

And then he and the woman stepped into the winds.

~~~~~~~

Moments passed slow and they had no idea how Abdul-Medjid Bay fared now, but apparently he and his Med-Jai had not succeeded in completely deterring the attentions of the creature.

It was they that were being chased right now, brutally and without cease. He could hear awful laughter behind them, echoing and whispering, calling with a promise that one would have to be completely brain-dead to miss. It was like death breathing down one's neck and Jonathan could taste panic mingled with the alcohol on his memory. Not one of the more refined tastes in the world, fear.

Legolas halted for mere seconds within the now population empty streets of Cairo, peered around to get a grip on his surroundings, then took off again with Daniels' sleeve firmly in his grasp. Jonathan's hip seared in pain from where the creature had slammed it, but he kept up as well as he could. "Jonathan, where may we hide?" he asked in voice that was distinctly breath_full_ and Carnahan grumbled beneath his breath about the exuberance of youth.

The Englishman drew in precious air, gripped his side absently and replied, "Well, the question is where can we hide _after_ we lose this monster. He'll see us wherever we go!"

Again they stopped and the Elf looked pensively into both his face and that of Daniels. The American was distinctly white. "Well, we'd better figure out how, then, won't we? I don't think he's going let us give him the slip and I _don't _want to becoming that thing's next meal!"

"Aye," Legolas agreed, pulling them into an alley as the sand followed them in search. "Yet I see not how we shall escape the wrath of the beast this time. No arrow or sword will fell this foe and alas I have not the wit to see an answer to this." He shook his head with a knit brow and whipped around in frustration. "Come. We _will_ find a means to a fair end yet or I bare not the name my father gave me!"

They took up flight again and by now Jonathan was feeling the effects of his injuries. It contrasted greatly with each pause of momentary rest. He ran as well as he could manage under his injured circumstances, but he knew good and bloody well that he wasn't going to make it against such odds. It became apparent with each step he took.

As likely as being called beautiful and angelic as Legolas, so was Jonathan in comparison to the speed of the Elf. This would never do. They were going too slow because of him and he cursed his mind for pointing it out. Yet he could not hide. He knew it, feared what it meant, but couldn't quite bring himself to do the self-serving thing right now even though every bone in his body was trying its darnedest to convince him of the benefits of preservation. After all, he _did_ care for his little sister. He wouldn't let this thing get more powerful on his account so it could steal her and kill her.

So he stopped in the middle of the alley as the wind howled desperately around them. A child could be seen in the dusty window of a little tailor shop, gazing at him with frightened eyes. It took only mere seconds for Legolas to realize a member of the small group had paused. The Elf whipped around with wide eyes and motioned him to continue. "Do not remain still, Jonathan! We must hasten!"

Carnahan shook his head. "Get Daniels out of here!" he yelled, his pain causing him to falter. The Elf remained where he stood and Jonathan shook his head. "Trust me, I've made it this far without dying! I don't plan on it yet! Just go…I'll catch up!"

Legolas couldn't afford friendly reluctance, which was fine. Jonathan appreciated the nod of confidence as the Elf pulled Daniels along and too soon out of sight. He could feel the wind at his back picking up and it urged him forward. Hip or not, he wouldn't give up just yet. He still had some of the old Carnahan luck with him.

And a small whirlwind at his back. Looking behind, then ducking into a nearby cross-alley, he limped towards a trashcan and decided it best to wait it out. He wasn't important to Imhotep, at least not in the way of tactical necessity. He had that on his side and would use it to siphon whatever meager hope he could out of his situation.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against a building as the unnatural force swept nearby. It seemed to hold a whispering voice that was unintelligible, but whatever it spoke he just knew was filled with terrible purpose. The dread priest passed him by, again deeming him unworthy of the time it would take to kill him. When it was gone and likely well after Legolas, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Isn't that always the way of things. Lucky me." Except Daniels was still in the gravest of danger. He could only hope that his choice not to follow gave them speed.

But fate, it seemed, would not leave him without his. The sound was low, soft and startled him into a yelp. Sure he was dead, Jonathan yanked himself up at much pain to his hip and looked for figures in black, saying nearly almost confidently, "I can take you!" Yet there was nothing there, at least nothing visible. He could hear it just fine as it howled again, but see it? Not until a nearby box rustled and he jumped again.

Suddenly, from behind a newspaper a nose peeked from the box, then two golden eyes. It called to him once more and feeling foolish, Jonathan bent down and removed the paper to reveal a shivering, howling, dust-blown kitten with large, frightened eyes. "Oh," he breathed, scratching his head and crouching down beside the box. The kitten made an attempt to jump from its make-shift shelter, but it was evidently too frightened to move much. "Trying to keep the dirt off you, I see." It mewled at him as he stood and he frowned, feeling a sudden pressure to act the cat surely didn't intend to convey. "Poor little bugger, you're probably scared out of your wits. Evy might like you."

Jonathan picked the cat up and avoided scratching paws and warning hisses until it was safely stuffed within his jacket. "Right bloody way of showing your gratitude," he chided as the little hitchhiker nipped his finger. "Watch it, little one. Wonder if Legolas has seen the likes of you, hmm?" An unappreciative claw at his paunch made him wince as he stepped into the main alley to find the Elf and the American if he could.

The streets looked windswept, so the trail was easy to follow. It was calm and clear like just after a terrible storm, people peeking from the buildings and the air still as it was drawn towards the source of destruction. Jonathan could see it clearly now, a small funnel of sand that abruptly faded from view beyond a few blocks. That set off a few alarms in his mind and cat in coat, he picked up his pace.

There were no telltale screams, but when he arrived where the wind had become whole Daniels was nowhere to be seen. What that meant Jonathan had no idea, but now that the dust had settled he could see both the creature and Legolas very clearly. The creature was laughing.

A black robe pressed on towards the blonde Elf with a terrible sound of amusement as Legolas pulled his twin swords from his back and blocked suddenly blows delivered by a beast that would give him no time to ready himself. "Hey!" Jonathan called, but neither paid any attention. His Elvish companion was too wrapped up in protecting himself and the monster, it cared nothing for him. "Bloody hell!"

The evil priest kicked out without warning and Legolas hit the sand mere seconds after with a hiss of frustration and his brows knit. He yelled something in his tongue, a challenge Jonathan would guess or an insult, and Imhotep's deep, raspy laughter echoed within the empty street. Then he bent and ripped one of the Elf's swords away, winning a pained cry from his victim. He had to do something, help somehow. The streets were littered with garbage, boards and stray items that had been drawn to Imhotep's power.

"Jonathan, run!" Legolas warned, rolling to his feet and raising his sword in time to block the fall of his own missing weapon. Imhotep countered and swung rapidly again and again, each time met by a master swordsman in a quick, dirty little battle that saw neither of them the loser. The clanging of swords filled the air as Jonathan scouted around and gripped a fallen tree branch.

But he came too late. Blow after blow, hit after hit, Imhotep failed to hit the Elf and soon grew tired of the game. Legolas thrust his sword and the creature defended, then took the blade in a pale, bare hand and jerked it forward, pulling the blonde towards him with an angry hiss. Before Jonathan could react Imhotep raised his fist and backhanded the Elf with a forceful hit that knocked Legolas right to the ground. He didn't get back up, either.

Then Imhotep cared who was behind him as Jonathan slammed the branch against his back, breaking it and jarring his senses. The dread creature turned around with dark eyes and a face that seemed fleshy, but rotting and spoke in its dark tongue as it advanced. Carnahan knew when he was in for it. He knew this time there would be no escaping, that death would take him. Imhotep raised his fist again with cruel eyes and made ready to kill.

But he wasn't the only one poised to attack. Before the hand even hit him Jonathan yelled out in pain and the mummy-creature halted in puzzlement as his next victim thrashed openly in the streets with no visible foe at his heels. Imhotep could wait. Claws were digging into his belly and a low-toned growl was coming from the general vicinity of his stomach. "Bleedin' hell!" he gasped, struggling to get his jacket open as the monster watched in fascination.

When his jacket opened the kitten flew out with a loud meow and to Jonathan's utter amazement, Imhotep screamed. Not only screamed, but bolted, turned into a desert wind and completely disappeared, leaving him to stand there, stunned and uncertain as to what in the world just happened. Nearby, from a little stand with an umbrella, an old man sat laughing at the display and Jonathan snapped himself out of his wonderment to see about his friend.

The Elf below had yet to stir.

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N:** Question: Would you all like to see this continued into Two Towers or find resolution in Fellowship of the Ring? Anyway, yes, I got that Jonathan scene from that lovely commercial about the cell phone video and the hedgehog that crawls up the dude's pant leg. ;-) Truly fabulous.

**Reviewers**: 

_lotrmatrix.hyperboards.com_ – **Lord of the Rings** and **Matrix** Role Playing, as separate fandoms and a forum for playing Middle-Earth as a Matrix simulation where **Elrond** is **Smith**. *wiggles eyebrows*

**Mommints** – Hehehe! Insanity, eh? Aye, it happens to the best of us, eh? ;-) And alas, the worry for Ardeth must continue yet another chapter. I canna help meself. Must postpone, well can't next chapter. Doh! The cat'll be out of the bag. Thanks! I'm happy to know I could take you to the places visually and that you like what I'm doing. :-) 

**Asylum** – Thank you! I had hoped people wouldn't be against my changing things a bit…some people like when the story is the same, but I rather like exploring the what-ifs that stories can give. :-) Yes, I shall finish this fic if it kills me…just takes a bit more time to think through because of all that's going on. Glad you liked!

**Wildcardgal** – Thanks! Glad you liked it…I know, it does seem rather unlikely, huh? Hehehe. Thanks for reviewing other stories as well this past few weeks…I believe you did. Hmm. :-D

**Angelguide** – I'm happy you like this, thank you very much for the review! :-D I had debated on switching between time periods, but what's a story without Legolas and Aragorn, huh? :-D Anyway, if I can think of a way they could meet, I'll do it, but only if I can think of something that doesn't sound hokey. :-O

**Pheonix** **Tears** – Thank you! I may just do it and doh! I forgot to change the name on the challenge from me to you…I'll do that this update. Crikey. I hate when I do that! Anyway, glad you're continuing to like!

**Patty** – Thankie! I wanted to try and convey as much of how gorgeous the movie looked. :-) And yeah, a sparring session between Haldir and Ardeth would be interesting, huh? Hehehe…boy, though…my mind is trying to come up with all sorts of ways to ruin it, from Ardeth tripping to Haldir getting his sword caught in his hair and Ardeth smirking.

**Karri** – Thankya, thankya, my friend! Hope you continue to enjoy and hope you add more to your fabulous **Legolas** story **Bitterness of Mortality**, which everyone should read right directly after they see this sentence because it's such an interesting premise! (Go, preciousss Hobbitses and Men and Elveses, go!) :-D

**Marcher** – :-D Aaw, thanks, buddy! Glad I made ya laugh and enjoy your read. :-D Hehehe…Ardeth's Elven Harem. ;-) I dunno…I was thinking Arwen might be good for him. ;-) She's like him. Anyway, yes, I'm trying to get more Boromir into the next chapter. :-D Looove our Boromir. :-) Thanks for reading, my friend! Hope **Captain** is going smoothly!

**JadeiteZ** – Hehe…oops, sorry about that Moria thing. I just like making people wonder. ;-) hehehe. A downfalling, I know. :-) Anyway, glad you enjoyed it! But yes, I will go over what happened within the halls of Moria next installment. Anyway, thanks again for reading. Reading reviews is like breath to an author, so I like to respond in kind. :-)

**Deana** – Hehehe..slowly wasting away. What a terrible fate for poor Ardeth. :-O I asked if he wanted to come to your house and he sounded kinda freaked. ;-D hehehehe. And I ain't yer son! ;-) No, really. Thanks, my friend. :-) I'm very gratified to have you pushing me to write write write! Otherwise it might take even longer. Hehehe! Thanks.


	11. Death Sentence

**Bloodlines**  
Death Sentence – WARNING: This chapter contains a bit of a spoiler for Return of the King, assuming certain things were added to the story of the movies.

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

_"At least we'll go out fighting the good fight."_

_Somehow when he said those words Rick had known there would be grief after, if any survived the fight. The great doors rocked and cracked with the blows of weapons handled by those bent on their death. The doors wouldn't hold forever, he knew, and yet he clung to some foolish hope inside that they would and that this terrible fate would not see him killed today, this way. Frodo's quest rang through him now, the importance of what might be brought to ruin with this skirmish. Rick turned his head and saw the three Hobbits standing together, little swords drawn and fearful, but ready expressions._

_And suddenly his small, stupid hope was crushed with the breaking of the door. It started with a small hole being chiseled out quickly and grew into the most hideous beings imaginable sweeping through the threshold of the door. Rick forgot his fears and threw himself into combat mode. One Orc fell with the blast of his gun, aimed level with his chest, but the next beast took his bullet in the arm, rendering that a complete loss. The guns weren't going to kill all of them and he had precious little ammunition._

_They soon drew too close for comfort and Rick threw his empty gun to the floor to draw the long dagger Elrond had given him. Gandalf already held a sword and Gimli was thirsty for vengeance on those who had obviously been the ones behind the death of his people here in this little grave of a city. An Orc stormed straight to Rick, offering no time before striking with a heavy mace that almost knocked him back with its weight. Guns, he realized, took a lot of the muscle work out of warfare._

_Still, after killing his next Orc, Rick felt he was doing pretty well. The dagger slid from the beast's flesh quickly and he found he had to place it directly into another enemy right after. He could hear the sounds of his companions around the room, fighting, groaning and possibly dying. "Gandalf!" Frodo yelled into the fray and Rick fought the urge to turn around and look to the Hobbit's aide. As it was his momentary lapse cost him some blood as an Orc sliced into his arm, winning a cry of pain and anger from his human foe. Rick swore viciously and attacked with all the more fervor. They had needed Ardeth and Boromir sorely for this fight. But Rick wondered inside if it really would have made the difference that would save them._

_The Orcs, as it turned out, were nothing. O'Connell managed a few more and even found himself able to check on his companions before a huge crash drew all attention from the brawl happening and to the now shattered doorway. "What the hell is that!?" he heard himself yell without even realizing the choice had been made within. It towered between 20 and 30 feet tall with arms as long as he was and a great big mace with which to bash, killing Orcs in its rage. This was just not normal or fair. He found himself wondering what kind of sick world this was._

_The creature gave him so little time to think after his small musing that all thoughts ceased and instinct took over. Rick suddenly felt very naked with only his small dagger to fight with. Gimli dodged the great mace, drawing off the creature's attention and Rick shoved his dagger back into its sheath. Running faster than he had ever in his life, he got to the door and took up one of the fallen axes. He had never used one, but figured there had to be a first time for everything._

_Gandalf was already fighting the massive beast and running when O'Connell turned back to the fight. He took a step forward, but was stopped quick by an unsavory hiss and a kick to his hip. As Rick tumbled to the wall he watched the large creature begin to give chase to another being as Gandalf was also stopped by an Orc. Frodo was in grave danger now. But the sword coming down on him prevented any hope that Rick could run and save him from certain death._

_The Orc howled in rage when Rick thrust his weapon aside and kicked him in return. "What can I say?" he drawled, lifting the axe and moving to chop the Orc in two. "Life's a…" A foot to the gut stopped him short. Below the Orc laughed a raspy sound and drew his sword up again._

_"Gandalf!" he heard Frodo yell and his efforts grew that much more urgent. There wasn't time for this play._

_Rick grunted back his pain and kicked the Orc back down, then threw his strength into getting that axe into his enemy. As it was, he managed only to crack the stone floor as the Orc rolled away. "Hold still when I'm trying to kill you!" he groused at the thing, who raced to its feet with snarling lips and evil eyes. Precious minutes passed and he listened intently behind him to the sound of the old wizard groaning as he hit either the wall or the floor, probably both. With a curse Rick kicked at the Orc again and muttered, "Ah, screw you." Then he turned away._

_When he whipped back he saw just what he had chanced seeing. A surprised look upon a now immobile Orc. He took that opportunity to try the axe again and this time hit home. But it was too late. He knew it, felt a chill run through him when Frodo's shout trailed off painfully. Rick turned away for good this time and saw the little Hobbit laying on the floor with that hulking monster standing over him. For a moment all time seemed to stop as the realization dawned in each of them. The quest had failed. He didn't know what that meant fully, but even he felt the loss. Pippin screamed his anger and headed dangerously straight for the beast as Sam bolted towards his fallen friend only to be stopped by an Orc. Gandalf gazed a moment longer at the fallen Hobbit, then wheeled on an approaching foe. Gimli joined Pippin in the fight on the creature and Rick, he watched this all happen with a sudden urgency to understand what it was that would see them through this._

_He did what he thought would be best when Pippin fell of the creature's back. He took his place. O'Connell pulled himself out of his wonderment and climbed onto the tomb of Balin, then launched himself onto the beast as it struggled against a blow from Gandalf. Instantly it screamed and thrashed to get its unwanted rider off, but Rick held on for dear life. It wasn't easy, he could say that much. Twice he almost fell and both times had been a good deal of trouble trying to maintain his flimsy hold on the creature's necklace. He wondered idly what in the world would possess such a being as this to even wear a band around its neck._

_Then he praised the thing mentally for doing so, for it gave Rick an idea. The creature bent down to grab Gimli within a great fist and the ex-Legionnaire dropped his axe to once again pull out the Elvish dagger. Stabbing into the creature's hide to gain a grip as he climbed up to its left shoulder caused it to scream and move, but with Pippin, Sam, Gandalf and Gimli it couldn't reach for the human on its shoulder. Ripping the dagger free Rick shoved himself forward and made a blind slash toward its throat, then promptly fell off. He looked up and saw the creature teetering now, as if it couldn't stay up and it occurred to him that perhaps laying quite so near it wasn't the wisest place he could be. Rick scrambled away just in time as the beast fell forward with a loud thud, then closed his eyes and fell back as relief and disbelief rushed through him._

_"Frodo!" Sam yelled, bringing everyone back into the here and now. Rest would have to wait. O'Connell sat up as the others rushed to the side of the Ringbearer._

_Gandalf knelt beside the Hobbit and looked up gravely as he drew him from stomach to back. He wasn't quite sure why, but it effected him when the little guy took a gasping breath and opened his eyes. Rick grinned and stood up, dusting his hands off on his pants and saying, "I knew it."_

_The wizard gave him a highly dubious look and he spread his arms innocently. "Okay, I didn't. What can explain this?"_

_ "Mister Frodo!" Sam was saying, taking his friend by the hand and shaking his head. "You're going to have to stop scaring us like this!"_

_The Ringbearer smiled and took help offered to stand. "I'm all right. Is everyone else?" Sam nodded. Gimli fixed the Hobbit with a wondrous look._

_Gandalf cocked his head. His expression sought for the answer to this miracle. "I think there is more to this Hobbit than meets the eye." Frodo gave him a confirming glance and opened his shirt to reveal the purest chain mail shirt Rick could have imagined up. It glittered like the mithril._

_"I don't suppose there's more of those laying around here?" Rick asked, scratching his chin. The wizard only smiled._

_But the moment was ruined by war cries sounding within the main hall. Every eye hit the door in wait until Gandalf shouted, "To the bridge of Khazad-Dûm! Run!"_

What happened after that Rick had no care to relive within his minds. He shook himself from his thoughts and gazed through tired eyes to the fire between himself, three sleeping Hobbits and a Dwarf that did as he did. There was uneasiness between them now, not because either bore feelings of dislike for the other, but because both had a natural drive to take the lead. They had even argued before nightfall about what would happen to the smaller party because Gandalf was gone, having faced a demon and lost. The Dwarf would have nothing of Lothlorien and had pointed Rick in the general direction. O'Connell had argued back that he hardly thought this trip was meant for four and that perhaps this Lorien place could offer them reinforcements. It was Frodo who stopped their little spat with his choice. He would follow Gimli's lead to Lothlorien and nowhere else.

Still, Rick wasn't boastful of his victory. Nothing felt good right now. He was lost in a world that was ultimately not his own, with little hope of getting back home and danger around every single corner. This place was like a twisted nightmare, gorgeous to a fault and just as deadly. He thought back on pretty Arwen and wondered if somewhere down the line she would turn into some vicious beast ready to devour him or any other man. He got the feeling if he had followed his instincts and hit on her a little that Elrond might have, at any rate. Those quiet, repressed types were the ones to watch for and this world was insane anyway.

He didn't even know why the old man's death bothered him so badly. Sure, he had liked the guy, but he didn't even know him. Yet he felt a great loss, as if something important had been ripped away from the world. He could still see that demon in his mind, too. That thing looked like Satan himself and _was_ for all he knew. Gandalf had been so very brave to stand upon the bridge and face fear itself. So brave and so wrong.

When Gandalf remained on the bridge to fight the demon, Rick had assumed he'd gone crazy. When the demon struck with a mighty sword, he'd assumed Gandalf dead. And when the wizard stood whole after the demon's sword had struck, Rick had become very certain that Gandalf wasn't any ordinary old man, but a demi-god or an angel or something. But he wasn't. He was now dead because the creature had fallen and pulled him down into the depths of the Dwarven ruins by the crack of a red, fiery whip. A valiant end, but a grievous one as well.

Rick rubbed his face and yawned, wondering when the nightmare would end. When would he wake up back in Cairo? With an inhale he looked up at the Dwarf and saw he was being watched. "Plotting my death?" he joked, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a little.

Gimli shook his head sorrowfully and Rick kicked himself mentally. "We have seen too much of that these days passed. Perhaps when I'm of a fairer mood."

Rick smirked and grabbed a stick to poke at the fire. "Yeah. Better mood." He lifted the burning stick up and watched a pretty flame slowly travel down the length. "You know, I wasn't trying to be an ass back there. I know none of this is my business. But I don't want to see Frodo fail."

"Aye," Gimli breathed with a single nod. "Nor do I."

"You don't trust those Elves, do you?" the ex-Legionnaire asked with an interested expression. He saw discomfort surface in the other's face coupled with resent.

The Dwarf looked at him across the fire. "I don't."

Rick poked the fire again. "You trusted Elrond."

"Aye, but he's different. He's…at very least he's part human and reputed to be wise in the ways of those beyond Elven heritage. I trust not what I have heard told of Lorien. There they say is an Elf witch who can tame even the strongest of creatures with a single glance. Those that enter her realm seldom leave and now with Gandalf gone I fear we will be left to her whims." Gimli's face clouded over. "I care not for the whims of Elves. They imprisoned my kin and would have imprisoned Master Frodo's uncle too if not for that Ring. In that I am glad you are here, for you have replaced the son of he who acted so unkindly towards my father and his company. I am far better without companionship like his."

With a sigh, the ex-Legionnaire dropped his stick into the fire and leaned back on his hands. "Yeah, they do seem a little goody-two-shoes. But what else have we got? I'm not trying to offend you or them, but this job is hard enough having ah…bigger people fighting it."

The Dwarf glared a little at this. "I'll have you know my people are of a stout make and very skilled with their weapons, Master O'Connell. I'll not be insulted by a stranger to this world."

O'Connell shook his head. "I don't mean it that way. What I'm saying is you have the skill and the strength and that axe, but those Hobbits? They aren't trained. They did good holding their own, but how much of a chance do you really think the four of you have all by yourselves against things like what we just saw? Gandalf, he was the wisest of the six of us and look where he is." Gimli frowned, but it quickly turned into a sigh. "Let's just see what those stuffy Elves have to say about all this, huh? If we don't like what they have to say we could always moon 'em and run."

The little warrior narrowed his brow. "Moon them, you say?"

A smirk dawned upon Rick's lips. "Yeah. It's a thing me and my old Legion buddies used to do on shore leave to our superiors out the windows of cars we borrowed."

Gimli grinned as Rick explained. That grin turned quickly into a frown when riders approached and a blond-haired man called out to them from atop a horse. "We bid you greetings, strangers. I am Haldir of Lorien and you are the Fellowship, are you not?"__

~~~~~~~

It was gentle here, beautiful and peaceful. He found himself enjoying the solitude that he was stealing at the moment. They had explained more about just what it was that he was suffering, but something about those brilliant blue eyes that Galadriel shared with her granddaughter suggested to him that there was still more they were keeping from him. He understood the Elves felt almost like parents over the world of Men, but he was no child in the way they would have to hide terrible secrets to spare him. The blade he had been stabbed by had been cursed, causing him to feel drained and weary, effecting him even to the point that he had begun to see in what they called the 'shadow world'. Given time it would have turned him into one of the black beasts that had wounded him. This was also why the light of the Elves had grown intense, for he was beginning to see beings as they truly were.

She had cured him of the small, life-threatening wound and by all accounts it appeared his weariness had fled. He felt refreshed, energized and able to continue this terrible quest should it be asked of him should home be nothing but a memory now. That was still uncertain. Gandalf had been keeping the book that had brought them here and if he were missing, would he have taken it with him? So many things raced through his mind right now as he wandered through the pretty trees by himself, though doubtlessly watched. Had Gandalf taken the book elsewhere? Had he been killed? Ardeth knew close to nothing of these people, but they seemed to hold the wizard in high esteem. Surely one such as he would not do something as petty as prevent a stranger from reaching his home.

A clear voice rang out through the dimmed forest. She sounded bittersweet and sorrowful, her voice perfect and soothing and enchanting. The voice sang almost angelically and caused Ardeth both sadness and comfort. It was a sound he would carry with him for the rest of his life and grew only more cherished as more Elves joined in. He came before a stream and knelt, looking into the crystal waters for answers, relief and comfort. It was soft to the touch as he rested his fingers within the current, feeling it with his heart and appreciating nature in a new way. Would this world be where he made his final rest? This Middle-earth?

It was then that the presense following him made herself known, coming into the open on soft, bare feet as though she had always been with him. At first he had thought all Elves were quite alike; prim, proper, beautiful and perfect. But even if they each embodied those qualities, they had differences. Elrond and Haldir bore these sophisticated traits, but this woman was unlike them to an almost fundamental degree. She was like an angel and this haven spiritual and more real than anything existence that he had ever known. It was like a dream of Heaven here, where he could rest without care. "It is for you that they sing," Galadriel spoke calmly into the blueness of their surroundings, coming to the grass to sit with him. He looked at the fine fabric of her white dress and thought it would get stained.

"Is it?" Ardeth replied, drawing the refreshing water into his hands to rub across his forehead. It felt cool and soft, just as everything here. The tired Med-Jai sat back on the grass and looked this ageless being over. "Why should they sing for me?" Songs were meant for heroes.

Galadriel tilted her head and listened as the leaves rustled in accompaniment to the voices in the trees. Her voice was gentle, but infused with power. "It is their nature, Ardeth. All things sad and beautiful touch the heart of the Elves. To live for ages is to feel all those ages upon your back. Listen. She says, 'Warrior of Grace. Bright is your victory, but in darkness you walk. The wound you carry will never fade, as all innocence fades. Yet trust to hope and trust the part you will play. Let not the darkness hold to you.' They sing of the quest that has been put before you, you and your friend."

He inhaled the fragrance of the woods and brushed his fingers across the grass, suddenly weighed down by that. Was this what it was to be an Elf? To mourn passionately? "It sounds sad," he commented, drawing a hand to his chest absently. "The wound I carry will never fade? That doesn't offer much hope." Again he wondered what those around him were hiding.

The Elf Lady looked him over with a grace that made him sigh. There was a certain, inescapable truth in her eyes that she made no pretense of easing. "Hope does not erase all sorrow, Ardeth. There are things from which no one can hide. All men are doomed to die."

Ardeth looked up quickly. He was only twenty-five, much too young to call his life to an end. How could a mere scrape do this? "Will I die from this wound? You told me the blade that touched me held a curse, but is there nothing I can do?" This place had a way of drawing his emotions out like poison. Things felt so tangible and he couldn't hide from her knowing eyes. He was afraid of dying. Afraid of leaving behind his duty to his people.

"The wound will take your life," she answered softly, sadly and it made his stomach hurt to hear such blatant honesty. But even still he could hear her voice in his mind breathing of hope that seemed so far away. "Do not be afraid. You still have time and what you do with that time will make this burden seem as nothing. There is a light over your life, Ardeth Bay. You will find the Hall of Kings only after your part is done."

The trickling water called to him again and absently Ardeth placed his hand in the gentle flow, thinking on the flow of time. All he left undone, all he wanted to see finished in his lifetime, was it gone? This knowledge was heavy on his heart, but her words were not without comfort. The Med-Jai looked again into her piercing blue eyes. "How long do I have?"

Galadriel shook her head softly. "That I do not know. The curse is different for each blade. Another called Boromir bore the wound of a Morgul blade many long years ago. It pained him greatly and took his life before the span of a man's life was complete. The Ringbearer also has a wound of this nature and it is not known how it will affect him over the course of his years."

"And nothing can be done." It wasn't a question. If he had never come here he would be fine. He wouldn't have this death sentence over his heart. But his temptation to brood over this was robbed of him, for how could he with what she had just said? Frodo, small and untrained, had the most important quest in the world upon his shoulders and carried it with that same death sentence over his head. In the face of such bravery how could Ardeth let himself be afraid?

_It is natural to grieve, _she told him, watching him deal with this news. _Frodo does not carry the burden on his heart. Elrond did not tell him what I have revealed to you, for the Hobbit has enough on his heart already. _ The melody in the trees trailed into the background and Galadriel stood up from her place, offering a hand to aid him. "So few years are given to the race of Men. And yet it is the envy of Elves to see them find peace at last."

She linked her arm with his and he felt a quietness come over him. "Have you no peace here?"

"For ten thousand years have I walked this Middle-earth and the sorrow of the ages weighs heavy upon my heart. Such is it for all Elf-kind." Ardeth could almost feel a wistfulness coating her words. "Shortly I will sail to a place where I may find rest, but forever are Elves bound to this world, even until the end of time. For Men it is different, for they are gifted with death. They are taken to dwell with the creator Himself."

Death was a gift to these people? Strange, he thought, that he would see long life as a gift.

Together they walked in silence until they came to where Boromir and Merry were taking breakfast. The red-haired Gondorian looked up with a smile as they approached. "The little one and I were beginning to wonder if the Lady had already sent you home without a proper good-bye."

Merry nodded and took a big bite out of an apple he was working on. Galadriel left Ardeth's side to sit at the table and the Hobbit tossed one to him. "Where've you been, anyway? Not dallying with Lord Elrond's daughter, I trust." Merry gave a decidedly wicked grin.

Ardeth sat down with the two of them, noting Galadriel's amusement. He coughed and shook his head firmly. "I can't say as I have. The Lady was kind enough to heal me."

The little one nodded and nursed his apple while Boromir addressed Galadriel. "You healed him? I had feared the wound had come from a Morgul blade."

"And your fear was correct," she answered gravely with eyes to match. The warrior and she maintained eye contact and Ardeth surmised they may be speaking within their minds. When Boromir looked up from her his expression was pensive, but nevertheless touched by dim relief. Ardeth grew suddenly uncomfortable with this attention and wished the subject changed. Galadriel granted him that. "Rest will do the three of you well as we await word from our riders."

The auburn Lord of Gondor tore his eyes from the Med-Jai. "Aye, but now that another day has passed will you speak of what is to come as you would not before? Do you fear the quest has failed?"

Galadriel watched him unmovingly. "I know not, Boromir, except to say that it is in more peril than ever before of failing. It has been thrown amiss from the beginning, but not yet has it fallen beyond hope. There is much to be decided."

"But the Dark Lord don't have his Ring, you'd think, right?" Merry asked seriously. "I mean you would know that, wouldn't you?"

Her response was bold and honest. "Not all things are given me to see, young Meriadoc Brandybuck. I can only see that there is still yet hope."

~~~~~~~

**Author**: _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**: _Yes_! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N:** Well, another chapter, another step in the tale. :-D

**Reviewers**:

**Patty** – Hehehe…aye, now must worry about Legolas, eh? Doh! Glad you liked what I did with Jonnybears. :-D Thanks!

**Tap Dancing Widow** – Thank you muchly, yes, those are wonderful characters, aren't they? :-D

**Marcher** – Yeas, Aragorn is most swoon-worthy. :-D I must pop FOTR in tonight, come to think of it. As for whether you can have both Rick and Aragorn…hmm…can I have both Elrond and Legolas? ;-) :-D Thanks! Glad you like the unusual friendship with Jonny and Leggy…I don't know why, but they just struck me as good pair of pals. Yeah, though…I know what you're talking about, Billy and Socrates…it IS indeed similar! Hehe!

**AngelGuide** - *sigh* Ah yes, Aragorn is quite the picture of male perfection, isn't he? :-D You know what makes it better is hearing how nice of a guy Viggo can be, too. Eee! Thanks for the review muchly! :-D

**Asylum** – Hehe…yes, I try to remain true to character and flow of plot. No Sauron diving over the cracks of doom just in time to capture his Ring from peril. ;-) Thank you muchly for the compliments! Means a bunch! :-D You're right…Jonathan should have got a mention, otherwise Evy never would have gone to Hamunaptra without his snatching the trinket. :-D

**Karri** – Hehehe…I had to make fun of that. Every time I hear Aragorn say that in TTT I roll my eyes. Thank you! Glad you liked last chapter, hope you continue to like and hope you post more of your awesome story soon! ;-)

**Deana** – Hehehe..I know, but I have to make fun even when ff.net messes with reviews. ;-) Thanks, my friend! I know you're gearing for Ardeth action…it's coming! I promise! :-D Thanks very much for your interest in this, my friend! :-D


	12. Chased

**Bloodlines**  
Chased

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

The city was in disarray.  Side stands closed their business so their caretakers could take cover, people ducked into buildings and some even stood in the open, watching the storm as it passed through Cairo.  Little did they know or understand what it was that wreaked havoc upon the unsuspecting city.  Tucked within an alleyway, out of sight if not out of mind, were Aragorn and Evelyn, taking a moment to rest as the storm headed into another direction.

The Ranger watched her keenly, his blue eyes alight in concern for her well being.  He had never thought there would come a day he would wish for the Orcs he had come against.  They were rough, evil and brutish; a truly terrible form of life.  Yet those he knew how to counter.  True, Mordor was filled with more than just Orcs.  He was certain there were horrors in there that had not yet been unleashed upon Middle-earth.  But those things that were filled of the Dark Lord power did not venture forth from their places often.  They hid away in wait, or when something so terrible as what now chased him did come from the blackness, it was countered by the power of the Elves.

He would not be troubled to die for this lady, he knew.  He accepted the place she occupied in his heart with fear that it would become more, but not with resent or rejection.  He knew not if he could stop this evil priest, but he would surely try.  It seemed so easy to forget the Ring now.  So terribly easy.  The eyes of Aragorn traveled the form of Evelyn softly and guilt flooded through him.  Oh, how simple it would be, if this Imhotep could be beaten.  Here there was a woman who had not the terrible price to give for his love.  Here there was no destiny, no Sauron, no temptation to take what Isildur had tried to take.  It could all be a memory upon the winds if he could but let go.

He looked down upon the alien sands beneath his feet, tracing his boot through it gently as his mind wandered what he had seen in this strange world.  _It may come to that.  Yet part of him, he knew, would never let go of home.  Of her._

In his stray thinking Aragorn did not notice the eyes upon him, studying him as softly as he had her a moment ago.  When he looked up Evelyn blushed and turned her eyes away from him, flustered that she had been caught.  "I'm sorry you're trapped here," she said and he moved to stand beside her.

"I am sorry for the things I leave behind at home, but…"  He stopped and looked down, waiting for her to meet his gaze for unknown reasons.  He did not want to give in to this.  It was not fair to her, when his heart still lingered with Arwen.  Yet he there were some things in this world and his last that he could not fight.  "There are things here that I am not sorry for.  I am grateful to know you."

Perhaps he should not have said it.  Evelyn's eyes stared into his, measuring and lovely, her lips caught open between speech and silence.  Her breath caught in her chest as she prepared herself to respond and he felt a little more of his fading memories of home get lost in the depths of this new life standing before him.

But her words never came.  The wind picked up and both forgot the moment, turning instead towards the street.  Sand whipped upon the roads and out of instinct Aragorn took her hand, knowing that any second may call for them to flee.  He liked not this sudden turn of the weather, for in this world it could portend many things.  "Come, we will leave this place," he said, drawing her back, but watching.

The wind seemed to center then upon one place and even before the form appeared Aragorn had Evelyn running.  He dared not to look back and urged her through rapid footfalls to the same, for not a moment could be spared.  There seemed to be fell laughter upon the air, following their steps closely with ill intent.  In despair, the Ranger pulled her out of the alley and into the streets, seeing no other course but to run.

Daring glances over his shoulder Aragorn saw that the evil priest followed them on foot now, his black robes swirling with a gust of sand whipping through the folds of fabric.  He seemed now more like a man and less the horror he had been at Hamunaptra, and yet there was something more terrible about the black depths of his eyes.  The corner of his lips curled into a dark smile as he chased with deadly purpose.  "Perhaps it would be best if we were to find this museum of yours, my lady."

She nodded and stopped momentarily to think, then pushed him off towards the left.  "Is it safe to assume he's one of the things you're sorry for being trapped with?" she asked wryly as they ran.

Aragorn only smiled quietly, giving her hand a squeeze.

The momentary mirth was shot down by an angered yell.  His voice was now more human, deep and resonant as the dread priest Imhotep snapped, "Nefertiri!" upon the winds.  A string of words Aragorn did not recognize came from the sorcerer at their heels.

"What did he say?" the Ranger asked, following her lead down another dust-blown street.  A man could be seen at a little distance, watching them with a puzzled expression.  The clothing he wore appeared a little less casual than what seemed typical for this town.  Aragorn wondered if he were a guard.

Evelyn yanked him off the street as one of the great metal vehicles headed straight for them.  Imhotep, however, did not appear to care.  Aragorn risked watching, saw the car stop and the evil priest's grin.  A great yell came from his terrible voice and without turning around the car jolted into reverse, following at their side as they ran to escape.  "What the hell is going on?" the dark man in uniform demanded of them, running up as they neared, expecting them to stop.

"Now's not the time!  Sorry!" Evelyn countered, pulling Aragorn directly past him.  A flustered growl and then a sudden gasp sounded behind them.  Aragorn hoped fervently for his sake the man was running now.

They darted down another pass and lifting her arm, Evy pointed.  "Straight that way and another left, then straight again.  This would be a whole lot easier if he weren't chasing us."

"Aye," Aragorn agreed, thinking that women of his home were not as often hunters as the men.  There was a strength about this woman, but he feared she would tire before they reached their destination.  Let alone the fact that their destination may or may not provide any rest from this monster.  Yet he resigned himself not to consider that possibility yet.  There was yet hope.  There had to be.

But hope did not wish to make itself known to them just now.  Above the sky darkened quickly and the laughter of Imhotep chased after them like a plague.  The air around them seemed charged and wroth with a dry heat that stung the skin, offering no comfort from the breeze that Imhotep's power caused.  And then they were forced to stop dead in the middle of the street upon which they traveled.

Aragorn and Legolas had been speaking, both coming to the supposition that this was indeed their home.  The constellations matched; Earendil rode high upon the night sky.  And if that were the case, he would guess only the remnants of Mordor could bring fire from the skies.  It came down before them in a great blaze, this ball of burning rock, and could have killed them both if they had been closer.  Aragorn grabbed Evy instinctively and pulled her away, but Imhotep's dark laughter kept them from standing still for long.  "This way," she breathed, pulling him away from the fire that danced in the street.  They turned down an alley just nearby and ran without looking back.

"I assume this is not normal," he said, watching the weeping fire fall all around the city.

Evelyn shook her head with wide, dark eyes.  "Mercifully not.  I only hope it doesn't become so."

Aragorn gave her hand another squeeze and looked into her frightened gaze.  "If it can be prevented, we shall see that it does not."

It seemed to offer a small bit of reassurance and he found himself grateful for the softening of those eyes.  A moment seemed to pass between them before he pulled his gaze away from hers and continued the escape.

The streets were now bustling with running citizens, panic stricken by the fires crashing into their homes, markets and yards.  Chaos ruled in Cairo, giving the evil priest Imhotep an upper hand.  As Evelyn and Aragorn ran a fearful young man darted before them, and Evy slammed into him at nearly full speed.  They both toppled to the sands and the laughter behind told the Ranger there would be no time to flee him again.

Evy scrambled backwards, trying to get to her feet as Aragon turned.  "No!" she shouted as he drew forth his sword, held it before him and stood ready to fight.  "Aragorn, don't face him!"

The Ranger shook his head as the sorcerer approached with a haughty grin.  "Run, my lady," was his only reply, before Imhotep stretched forth his hands.

"No!" Evy persisted and he felt her delicate hands on his shoulders.  Her voice was full of despair and resolution.  "I can't.  I can't leave you now."

He had no time to reply.  The creature, having had his fill of watching them, snapped something in his dreadful language, then bore down upon Aragorn.  The Ranger thrust his sword full into Imhotep's chest without even a flicker of resistance.  The priest smiled at the weapon protruding from his flesh, then gripped Aragorn's wrist, shoving him aside.

Aragorn regained his footing and launched himself into his deadly foe as the creature pulled the sword out, looked it over and made ready to toss it.  Instead Anduril landed at Evelyn's feet as the two men fell to the sand together.  "Pick it up," Aragorn groaned as the priest hit him with a force greater than any Orc.  The Ranger momentarily saw stars before his vision as his enemy held his shirt firmly in his grasp, drawing back his other hand again.

Aragorn looked down into the dark eyes of Imhotep, seeing nothing but the evil intent there, the rage of centuries passed.  He heard nothing but the distant crackle of fires and screams of the innocents being tormented by the rain of fire.  Holes marred the fiend's cheeks, splitting as dead skin when the priest opened his mouth and spoke in hushed, deadly tones.  Aragorn wrapped his hands around Imhotep's wrist, but it did nothing to pry such an unbeatable grip loose.  With a growl the priest took his shoulder impatiently and shoved, throwing him aside as if he were nothing.

He expected more, but received nothing else.  As the Ranger struggled to regain his senses Evelyn cried out and something hit the ground with a great thud.  When he looked up Aragorn saw his sword lying in the sand.  She whom he was sworn to protect was gone and so was the priest.

~~~~~~~

He didn't know what had happened after the battle, where the creature had gone or who had made it out alive.  There was only weariness, pain, fear and the distinct feeling that being followed produced.  Legolas put a hand to his pained head and followed along side Jonathan, content to be led for now.  The creature had hit him as he had never been hit before, then let him fall to a road paved in tough material.  He ached, but his Elvish healing would see him at full capacity soon enough.

Another fireball crashed into a building behind them, but both had grown used to it enough to not pay attention in their trek towards the museum that the Med-Jai had spoken of.  They had run in the opposite direction of it and now had a trip to make, both men in pain.  Jonathan had it worse and yet in his state had aided the fallen Elf, for which Legolas was extremely grateful.  It was time he returned the favor, he knew, and at least kept watch for a small moment of rest.  "Jonathan, stop," he urged and the mortal did just that as they rounded a corner.

Legolas aided his friend to lean against a brick wall on the side of the road, then stood apart, rubbing his temples absently and willing away the pain.  "How's the head?" Jonathan asked breathlessly, wiggling a questioning finger at him.

The Elf inhaled deeply and looked around through half-lidded eyes.  "It betters quickly.  Time shall see it healed very soon."

There was annoyed glare aimed directly at him as Jonathan rubbed his side.  Legolas smiled, knowing no real malice was meant.  Aragorn had given him that self-same expression once or twice while hunting.  "The least you could do is lie," Jonathan shot, then groaned.  "I'm half-dead and you're on about your perfect health.  Somebody bloody shoot me."

"Does it ease your pain to act irritable when you are wounded?" the Elf asked with a grin.

Jonathan smirked up at him and replied, "As a matter of fact, it does."

Legolas laughed.  "Then by all means, continue, my friend.  I would not do you the disservice of requesting you stop."  The other waved a hand and exhaled while the Elf catalogued their surroundings.  "You know we are being followed, don't you?"

"Are we?" he heard Carnahan say before he straightened a little and nodded.  "I mean yes.  I knew."  They shared a grin.  "I don't suppose it's a beautiful girl with a ton of money and a taste for fun in the middle of a crisis."

The Elf shook his head and sighed, his eyes straying to the corner once in a while.  "Unfortunately, my wisdom does not tell me that is the case.  Though, I daresay by the looks I have been receiving, fetching you a girl would be little trouble."

The other looked slightly peevish as he pushed himself from the wall.  "Oh, be quiet, will you?  I'm having a rough enough day as it is."  He accepted the help Legolas offered and they began again.  "I can't imagine who would be following us.  I'm sure that Imhotep fellow would want to make quite the entrance of it, if it were him."

The Elf nodded.  "Aye.  One would think that."  He shook his head, inciting a momentary jolt of headache.  "Perhaps I am mistaken.  It is only a small feeling, not based upon evidence."

The small feeling persisted as they walked together through the distressed city.  The skies had stopped throwing fire now, but what had already hit the town burned steadily as mortals raced to stop the mayhem or raced away from it.  So much destruction had taken place in so little time.  A mother stood in the streets, two children hugging her legs with cries on their lips, all three watching a small building crackle and burn.  "My husband," she said softly, when two men rushed to her side.

Legolas looked away, feeling a profound sadness enter him.  Mortals had so little time and to see it robbed of them before their time was troublesome to him.  He simply was not around death like this.  Elves did not die of age or sickness, but when slain in battle went on to the Halls of Mandos.  He had been told when mortals passed on they traveled to the Hall of Kings where the Creator himself would greet them, but somehow it still saddened him to see them pass on.  It made him think on Aragorn and how there would be a final parting between friends one day.  When the end of the world came, he knew not if Elves and Men would be reunited, but who could say how many ages would pass before they gained that knowledge?  He did not understand this parting or the reasons for it.

"There.  We'll turn there," Jonathan announced, pointing ahead of them to a street corner.  They walked steadily on, each of them trying to blot out the noise of grief swallowing the city.  But try as he might, Legolas could not be rid of the nagging feeling they were being followed.  He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw no one following them, however, neither openly nor by stealth.  Elves were not easily dodged or fooled, especially so trained as he.  "Looking for our friend?"

Legolas frowned thoughtfully.  "I thought perhaps to catch our 'friend' following us, but when I turned my head I saw no one.  It troubles me."

His friend smiled at that.  "Come now, my good lad.  We all make mistakes."

"I am not mistaken," the Prince of Mirkwood replied certainly.  Carnahan raised an eyebrow and waited.  With a smile of his own, the Elf shrugged.  "Believe as you like, but when the priest comes from behind and takes you, let you then remember that an Elf is seldom wrong."

"_Seldom?"_

"I am _not_ mistaken.  We are being followed."

Jonathan laughed and looked ahead of them.  Med-Jai could be seen at the door of a building in the near distance and Legolas assumed that to be their destination even as the mortal at his side confirmed his thoughts.  "There's the museum up there.  Looks like Bay's little henchmen arrived safely enough."

"Let us hope the others did as well," Legolas commented, scouting the area ahead and to the sides of them.  There seemed no sign of Aragorn or Evelyn, or of Bay and the other American.

"Carnahan, Legolas," greeted Salih as they approached the museum.  His expression showed relief at their coming, yet underlying troubled thoughts below the surface.  "Where is my uncle and the others?"

They stopped before the Med-Jai and Jonathan spoke, throwing his thumb back in the direction from which they had come.  "He had us split up.  Figured the priest wouldn't chase all of us that way.  I take it we're the first to arrive?"

The Med-Jai nodded.  "So it is you and the…the Elf, then?"  The Med-Jai still did not believe him to be as he said he was, which did not trouble the Elf in a world where his people were fairy stories.  Yet one question troubled him.  He knew if this were a world set millennia after his own, where the Elves would have gone.  But what of Dwarves and Hobbits?  The thought of Men eradicating them gave Legolas a chill.  Surely there was another explanation.

"Well," Jonathan was saying, "See the thing of it is Daniels had been sent with us.  We had a run-in with old Imhotep out there."

Understanding dawned upon Salih's face, turning a hopeful expression grim.  "And he is dead."

Carnahan nodded.  "Unfortunately, yes.  Legolas and I would have been dead too had it not been for this little kitten I found.  I had him shut up in my jacket and right about the time Imhotep went to kill me, the little bugger started clawing my stomach.  When I opened my coat the cat came out and Imhotep took one look, then ran off like a bat out of Hell.  What do you make of that?"

The young Med-Jai shook his head, his brow knit and a look of disbelief glittering within his eyes.  "That is a strange story you tell," he probed dubiously.

Jonathan cocked his head, unamused and said, "Look, I might have said the same thing about your little story about a 3,000-year-old mummy, but I…"  He stopped his talking suddenly and jumped up with a cry, putting the Med-Jai on guard.

Legolas whipped around, drawing his swords, but saw nothing.  "What is it, Jonathan?" he asked, searching the street.

Carnahan, his hand to his chest, turned around and looked downward.  "I say.  I like that, you little hairball.  Scared me to death."

The Elf followed Jonathan's gaze downward and saw not a beast, an Orc or a mummy, but a gray kitten with large, golden eyes.  It pawed at Jonathan's leg again and mewled, looking up in expectation.  With a shake of his head, Carnahan picked it up and scratched it behind the ears.  "This must have been our little tag along," he said, holding it up for the Elf to inspect.

Legolas pet the little animal and smiled.  "I was not mistaken," he said triumphantly.

The mortal rolled his eyes and smirked.  "Yeah, but you didn't see it following.  If you're so perfect you should have seen it after us.  It's only a cat, after all."

The Elf drew his shoulders up a little proudly and looked only at the little ball of fur in Jonathan's arms.  "Cats are known for their agility and stealth."

"So Elves can't track kittens?"

"Jonathan, be quiet, will you?"

~~~~~~~

**Author**:  _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**:  No infringement intended.  Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**:  _Yes_!  By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**:  Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N:**  SO sorry this has been forever, but half of the time this took was sickness and the half before that was pure laziness and the half after that was writing another chapter to another story. ;-)

**Reviewers**:

Peoplllllle...  I need to know if I should continue this into **Two Towers** or cut it off at FOTR…no one answered last time I asked.  *SNIFF*  Oh the humanity!  Maybe I'll just kill Ardeth and Rick right here in Middle-Earth and have Legolas marry the kitten!  ;-)  Sceery.

**Jedi Buttercup **– Nope, haven't given up!  My friend would prolly hunt me down and kick my butt from here to Mordor if I did. :-D  Ardeth and the others went through the High Pass, which is just east of Rivendell in the Misty Mountains.  They didn't go this way in the book because they A.  weren't planning directly on going to Lothlorien that I'm aware of and B. they were worried that the spies of Sauron would see them.  I figured since this time they were legitimately going to Lorien, they might risk the eyes of Sauron's henchmen rather than travel all the way down to the Gap of Rohan and back up. :-D  Thanks…glad you liked it!

**Mommints – Hehe…thankie, my friend.  ;-)  Glad you enjoyed.  Yes, I wouldn't be me if I didn't give Ardeth a fatal wound. ;-)  Muahahaha.**

**Elin1** – Hehehe…uhoh…don't get in trouble at work!  Thanks for thinking that little Rick scene with Gandalf hitting him was funny. :-D  Hope you're gonna continue to read!

**Angelguide – Actually, everything I've read about Viggo leads me to believe he's probably one of the nicest, most humble actors out there.  :-)  Thanks for the review, glad you're enjoying. :-)**

**Marcher** – Thankie, thankie!  I thought I'd keep everyone wondering what was up with Ardeth. ;-)  Glad you liked it.  They haven't gotten my application to soothe the boys yet, but I'm still hoping. ;-)  Thanks, my friend!

**Kaidog1** – Thanks! :-D

**Patty** – Hehehe…sorry about the emotional changes. ;-)  Just gotta do that sometimes. :-D  Thank you very much for the review!

**Karri** – Thankie!  Glad you're enjoying, as my little expert on both worlds. :-)  Please update Bitterness of Mortality soon!! ;-)  Dying for more!  Thanks again!

**Asylum** – I plan on addressing why Imhotep calls her Nefertiri…the history between she and Imhotep is still canon, as far as her being a princess so long ago…which I'll also address I believe in another little side plot with Aragorn, perhaps.  Not sure.  But anyway, now that she's with Imhotep there will be a little more understanding between them of who he is and who she is to him.  :-)  Yes, there was a human named Haldir in Middle-earth history and if memory serves an Elf named Denethor.  I wonder if that was an oversight on Tolkien's part.  Hmm.  Anyway, thanks a bunch!

**Deana** - So sorry it's been so long, but thanks for pushing me into more!  Hehehe. ;-)  Glad you're enjoying this!  Nice to see you inducted into LOTR fandom.  Muahahaha.  Pretty soon me and Karri will have you writing LOTR. ;-)  Ah, one could wish, anyway. ;-)  Anyway, thanks for always being on my tail to get this done!  It's a help!


	13. Uneasy Answers

**Bloodlines**  
Uneasy Answers

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

The shroud of night covered the forest and Rick listened to the absence of sound within the trees.  He would have thought comfort could be found within the darkness, for even if he remained in the company of the remaining Fellowship he would still be tucked away from the prying eyes he felt were now upon him.  But such was not the case.  He felt as though he were still standing in the desert from three years ago, open to any that came and to those that had left him to die.  What it was, he could not say, but nature breathed of it all around him.  Rick scratched through his itchy stubble and wondered just when it was he had lost his mind.  He was even starting to think like these people.

What scant rest Haldir had allowed Rick had passed up on, too disquieted to lose himself to sleep.  When he had asked the Elf if they were being watched, he had only smiled and left him to rest with the others.  What was it that bothered him so?  He searched the trees for eyes and felt them, but could not for the life of him see the source.  Being watched wasn't something new to him, certainly, but there was something so dreadful about this place, something bubbling beneath the surface.  He felt it strongly whenever his eyes crossed Frodo.  Each time he thought of taking the Ring to this Mordor himself, just for the sake of having it done.  He felt restless and impatient, and wanted nothing more than to get Ardeth and go home.

He, Boromir and the other Hobbit had survived and that fact revived the cheer of the others with him while his news of Gandalf grieved Haldir and the two Elves with him.  This place was a myriad of emotion and Rick was tired.  "You should have taken sleep," the Ringbearer commented from his side and the ex-Legionnaire looked down.  Again he wondered what trouble it would be to bear the burden himself...  Except that it was not his to bear.  This was not his world to save.  Not that he was any sort of hero, anyway.  But maybe, just maybe if he took the Ring to his world, it would stop being a problem for these people and even help the Med-Jai defeat the foe they faced.

No.  It could not be.  He abandoned that thought—tried to—and shrugged.  "Yeah, I guess I should have."

So concerned, this friendly stranger.  "You look tired."

He certainly felt it, too.  He could see it mirrored within the Hobbit's bright blue eyes.  Thoughts of the Ring and of this quest tumbled around his mind no matter how hard he tried to put it aside.  Just how far could this little guy get, anyway?  If Mordor was the most dangerous place in Middle-Earth, how in the world did he have a chance?  O'Connell exhaled and looked ahead.  "This place is weird.  Pretty, but very weird."

Frodo nodded knowingly and Rick wondered if he too felt like he was being watched.  The other two didn't seem to notice anything unusual and Gimli was too busy making his distaste of the Elves known.  The Ringbearer looked up as light filled their path and Rick followed his suddenly wondrous eyes.  Light, pure and blue, soothingly met his vision and his disquiet increased.  "Welcome to Caras Galadhon," their Elven leader announced in a tone filled with both peace and warning.  "The home of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.  I will take you to where they wait by the side of your companions."

They were led quickly through the ethereal place and each step brought him closer to Ardeth, to answers and to having to speak of the terror of Moria.  It would be forefront on their minds, he knew now, from the way Haldir spoke.  They had expected Gandalf to be gone and he would again have to tell of what they had lost. 

It was present on new and old faces as the small group of tired warriors were led into a glade.  Instantly the three Hobbits rushed with a cry towards their long-lost companion, leaving Rick and Gimli to follow the Marchwarden's lead.  The ex-Legionnaire's eyes fell upon three familiar forms that approached with one knockout of a blond.  Though he fully intended to greet Ardeth Bay first, Rick was sure to offer Lady Arwen a soft smile as he extended his hand to the Med-Jai and shook it.  "Hey.  Glad everyone made it.  Everyone okay?"  He looked into Bay's weary eyes, then turned at the sound of happy Hobbits nearby.

"We managed," Bay replied, following his gaze.  "I see most of you did as well."

The grief and disquiet hit him again.  "Yeah," he breathed, turning his eyes upon the blond woman that watched him.  Something about her gaze troubled Rick.  It seemed like he had met her before, or that perhaps she was the one that had been watching in the Golden Forest.  His mind seemed to cloud slightly as she searched his eyes, but that wouldn't stop an O'Connell man from speaking his mind.  "Rick O'Connell.  Are you…married?"  A smile spread across her pretty lips, but the gravity in her expression did not fade any.  Those eyes were wise.

The Med-Jai raised an eyebrow and shook his head disapprovingly.  "Yes, my friend, she is married.  This is Lady Galadriel and I advise you to be anything but yourself."

Rick rolled his eyes, but couldn't tear away from hers for too long.  Suddenly images of the Ring flitted through his mind and images of his shady past, all seeming too ugly compared to her.  He was as naked as a baby and Rick found his smile fading, though every indication on her face told him she knew his heart and looked past what shouldn't be seen.  Her voice was as soft as a whisper and as strong as the knowledge of life and death.  "Do not be troubled, Rick O'Connell.  Long has your journey been, longer than you had thought it would be.  Much longer than that of your companions."  He nodded lightly and remained silent despite himself, so she continued with the question he had been waiting to answer.  "Tell me what has befallen Gandalf."

At this Rick turned his eyes on the Hobbits, upon Frodo.  He could still hear him calling for the old man.  The sound was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.  It troubled him still, making him victim to the bond that occurred between men that fought together against death.  "He didn't make it.  This thing…we went into this mine.  Some sort of shortcut, I guess.  We were chased down by these Orcs and we did pretty good, too, until the demon came."

"Demon?" Ardeth intoned and O'Connell nodded.

"Yeah.  Looked like everything that your mom told you about in Sunday School," he said, sighing as he searched his mind for the correct word.  "Bal…Bal-something or other.  Gandalf said it, but the moment was too tense.  I don't remember.  Anyway, it chased us down to this bridge and once everyone was safely across he stopped to fight it."  Rick gave Ardeth a sidelong glance.  "I hope that's _not_ what's running around Egypt right now.  That thing…well, there's no real gentle way to put it.  It and Gandalf fell off the bridge.  It was a pretty long drop."

The pain evident in the face of their hostess face made Rick exhale.  She looked suitably horrified and he regretted the news he just gave her.  He should never have had to give her this answer, should never have been here _to_ give it.  _You were appointed to, Rick O'Connell, and nothing could have prevented it_, she replied to his thoughts, but he could have sworn her lips hadn't moved.  Startled, he tried to ask about it, but was cut off by a more important question.  "This quest is in a perilous state, but there is even still some hope.  Tell me, did Gandalf take the book that summoned you with him when he fell away?"

Rick gave the Med-Jai an uneasy look, knowing what getting back to Egypt meant to him.  "Yeah.  He did."

Galadriel looked away at that, her face pensive and drawn from sorrow.  "I must speak with my husband.  Rest now and we shall speak again soon.  My granddaughter will remain."  She smiled a last time before departing and Rick ran a hand through his hair, breathing out.

"Wow, she's…"

The Med-Jai nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.  "Yes, my friend.  She is quite a remarkable woman."

Another remarkable presence made itself softly known from nearby and Rick smiled as Arwen tilted her head in greeting.  "Granddaughter, eh?  It's nice to see you again."  Her fair faced seemed to glow with a warmth that was different than most of the girls he had known.  Clean and pure.  It made him playful to hide the truth of how it made him feel.  "I hope you didn't have as much trouble getting here as I did.  I mean I know you couldn't resist seeing me again, but it might have been safer staying home."

Her eyes twinkled and he knew she understood the jest, even as the Med-Jai beside him groaned in irritation as he and Boromir wandered to where the Hobbits were talking uproariously.  "It is good to see you again, Master O'Connell.  I am gladdened that you survived.  Are you hungry?"

He rubbed his stomach absently and looked at the table.  "Yeah, actually.  That's not a bad idea."

"Then come."  She offered a sheer-clad arm clothed in deep maroon to him.  It felt so soft after all he had been through, so welcoming.  "We shall sit with your Med-Jai friend.  I am certain you have much to speak of."

~~~~~~~

Time had turned the hours of day into night.  Their time here within the Golden Wood was waning and he found himself loathe to give the dream away.  Yet Ardeth knew what had to be done, both here and at his far away home in Egypt.  "You look peaceful," O'Connell observed, sitting at the foot of a great tree, his back against the trunk and his eyes half-lidded.  "Hell, I bet even I look peaceful now.  This is some place."

The Med-Jai shared a grin with Boromir and nodded.  He had noticed his American friend calm down as they day progressed, offering them rest and the magic of this place.  O'Connell had seemed less than his usual self upon their reunion and of course Ardeth knew next to nothing about him, but it was a noticeable change.  "That it is, my friend.  Do you feel rested?"

Rick nodded and glanced over to where the Hobbits lay sleeping.  "Yeah.  Nice not to have to worry about being chased by Orcs or whatever other fairytale wants to wander after us."  He grinned at Ardeth.  "You should see those Orcs."

"Big?"

The Legionnaire nodded with a glint in his eyes.  "But more than big, they're just plain ugly if you ask me.  Of course, I wouldn't exactly go telling one I said that, but I've never seen anything so weird and disgusting.  You fight these things?" he asked Boromir.

The auburn-headed Captain of Gondor nodded without missing a beat.  "Aye.  Mordor is on the borders of my country, so I am no stranger to Orcs and other strange visions of blackness.  My brother and I have hunted them in our own lands, have seen the destruction they cause."

Rick crossed his ankles, his face intent upon Boromir.  "They talk too, don't they?"  Those blue eyes darted between his companions.  "I mean I don't know.  I had this idea they weren't much more than animals, so it was strange to hear them speaking English."

The starry lighting of Lothlorien seemed to reflect blue in the eyes of Boromir as his voice lowered and his expression grew wearied.  "They _are little more than animals."  His tone was hard, betraying a hatred for these beasts that Rick spoke so casually of and Ardeth listened to their Gondorian friend in recognition of a leader who had seen terror come upon his people.  Boromir sighed, noting the other man's quiet.  "Forgive me for speaking so harsh.  I have seen what they can do and can imagine no Man, Elf, Dwarf or Hobbit able to duplicate it.  I have seen children, taken and killed for sport.**1**  They are little more than animals."_

"Yeah," O'Connell breathed, leaning his head back.  "Well, we'll take care of them, won't we?"

There was no 'if we are here' added to that and Ardeth believed it just as well.  He could see in Rick a willingness to continue on this journey and felt it reflected in his own being.  Galadriel was right; what he did with the time he had left would help him in this.  He decided not to mention to Rick that he was going to die and did not know when, and had asked Boromir not speak of it either.  If he were lucky, it would not be sickness that would take him, but honor in battle.

His thoughts were thrown astray by the approach of another presence, alien to all three men, that spoke quietly into the night.  He bled in from the shadows with confidence and Rick, ever friendly, grinned up at the Marchwarden Haldir and greeted him according to his customary humor. "Sorry if someone complained.  It was Ardeth yelling about the lack of alcohol, despite our efforts to shut him up."  The Med-Jai exhaled and shook his head.  How a man could win a person over, complain about a thing of their responsibility and pin it on someone else, all without appearing foolish or rude was beyond Ardeth's understanding or want to understand.

Haldir obviously knew, of course, the reality of those words—the _lack of—and smiled lightly, finding some amusement in that.  "Indeed, Master O'Connell?  We shall have to find something to placate him, will we not?"_

Giving O'Connell a little look, Ardeth replied, "I am well placated, thank you."  He turned his eyes upon the Elven warrior.  "What can we do for you?"

Haldir surveyed the Fellowship before giving his message.  "My Lady summons you, Ardeth Bay and Rick O'Connell."

"Summons?" Rick repeated, sitting up.  "What's going on?"

The Marchwarden apparently did not know.  "She did not tell me the reason, but given the location in which she wishes to meet you I can only advise you to openness to truth."

They stood immediately and both men exchanged glances before the Med-Jai asked, "Where is this location?"

There seemed to be an aura of mystery within the eyes of Haldir as he answered, "I am to take you to her mirror."  Before they could ask of it, the Elf turned away and began into the woods, clearly expecting to be followed.  Motioned to take the lead, Ardeth trailed him with O'Connell close behind.  Though the night had blanketed the forest, dimming the stunning surroundings, Elves could be heard within the trees and glades.  Clear voices rang out in beautiful song.

"Pretty voices," O'Connell commented, stepping into stride at the right of Ardeth.

"They mourn for Mithrandir," Haldir replied from ahead of them, his voice touched by the sorrow that was shared by his kin.  "Gandalf, as you know him."

"What are they saying?"

The Elf looked over his shoulder for a moment at O'Connell, his eyes grave.  "They speak of the light that has gone out.  Of his bonds being cut."

The American quieted at that and they traversed in silence then, listening to the fair voices.  Gandalf's death had affected these people profoundly and Ardeth wondered how a Man could hold such sway over the cares of these private beings.  There was still so much about this world he did not understand.

As they neared he could feel a presence begin to impose itself upon his awareness, strong and clean, and he knew as sure as he could feel her that if she did not wish it so, he would have never known they were close.  The voices of the Elves seemed distant and all but forgotten as they came to a small clearing.  Haldir did not enter, but motioned Ardeth and O'Connell on to where Galadriel waited.  Her starry eyes watched their movements gravely and just as they neared, she gathered her fine white skirt into her hand and took a pitcher from a nearby stand.

In the middle of the clearing there stood a pedestal and upon that what looked to be an ornate basin with a reflective bottom.  The Elf sorceress watched them as she stepped beside it and filled it with water.  "I ask you as I ask all who would entreat the powers I possess.  Will you look into the mirror?"

Ardeth exchanged glances with Rick, then turned his attention upon Galadriel.  There seemed to be something different about her.  She seemed graver, more powerful as if infused by things he did not understand.  It made him wary, so he asked, "What will happen if we do?"

"Many things, but what you see will be a truth, be it the past, the present or the future," she replied, training her steady gaze upon him, for he had spoken first.  "It is a choice to be made, not to be forced, for not all hearts are prepared to hear all things."

Ardeth looked to Rick, who rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, but nodded nonetheless.  The Med-Jai looked down into the water, seeing only that.  It was only a mirror, nothing more.  Her magic would touch his mind, but truth was not a thing to be feared, so he stepped up, prepared to accept what would come.

The reflection of the mirror within the small pool seemed to draw him sweetly, beckoning with a touch he could not identify.  Was it her power he felt suddenly coursing through his veins?  For a long moment only his own eyes stared back, his eyes but not.  It was as if another were looking at him through his own image.  And then it changed.  He forgot about the outside world, about Galadriel and about the forest he was in.  Time seemed to release him from its hold to leap past what he could perceive with his own senses and show him more.  The vision within his eyes shifted softly, changing his face into that of his father.  He turned away from his son's watch as a scene melted in behind him.  It was Hamunaptra.

It was morning, bright and blue.  The sands were made restless by a breeze, sweeping grains onto Abdul-Medjid's boots.  He seemed both young and old as he led a 15-year-old boy towards the ruins.  "My son, it is both an honor and a curse that I must tell you of your heritage," he said in low tones.  "I will tell you now the tale of this ancient place, a tale we are forever bound to."

It was the day that his father had told him about Hamunaptra's secrets, about the Med-Jai's sworn duty to protect the world from what lay beneath the sands.  His people did not talk openly of the City of the Dead.  They did not tell their children until they became adults.  One week after his mother had died Ardeth's father had seen the change in his son and deemed him a man, ready to understand the secrets of life and death.

At first Ardeth had not believed the tales, thinking his father was playing a joke or some other such nonsense, but gradually as he spoke to others about this he began to allow mystery and magic into his life.  Then, too, there were the whispers heard at the site, the strange visions and voices calling.  Ardeth accepted his fate in this world, but it did not stop him from doubts that sometimes came.

After telling the story Abdul-Medjid pulled his son from the site and retreated with him to where they had left their horses.  AS the youth was mounting his father touched his arm and with grave eyes said a thing that to this day spoke to his sense of purpose.  "Above all else, Ardeth, remember this.  You are a protector."  The face of his father changed into that of a white man with long hair and piercing dark eyes.  Behind him stood a white tower, tall and strong.  He seemed almost ancient, like something out of the middle ages, but the words still belonged to his father.  "It is your birthright and your life.  For blood and for honor."

And just as the power had touched him, it let go.  The world came back and with it, uncertainty.  As the mirror dimmed back to his own reflection the Med-Jai looked up for understanding and found Galadriel watching him with interest.  "Did you see it?" he asked her.  She nodded once and he looked back again, as if the vision would return.  "What does it mean?"

Holding up her hand, Galadriel shook her head.  "Wait until all has been seen before you ask."  She motioned O'Connell forth that he would experience his vision.  Ardeth stepped aside, wondering if he would see this one as well.  O'Connell's uneasy expression made him believe otherwise.

"What'd you see?" he asked before turning towards the mirror.

Ardeth shook his head, unsure of what to answer, except, "My father."

That prospect did not seem to appeal to O'Connell, but the American nevertheless stood boldly to face what was to come.  Turning his head, Rick peered into the mirror, his hands resting on the stone pedestal.  Ardeth saw no visions, but as he walked slowly around to view his companion's face he could see the rapt attention that the ex-Legionnaire paid.  His blue eyes were almost unblinking as he gazed, his brow knit and his body still.  Light seemed to shine from the glittery surface of the water, but when Ardeth looked down he could see nothing but Rick's reflection mirrored back.

The Med-Jai looked to Galadriel and was surprised to see her watching him instead of the mirror.  Did she see what O'Connell saw, even without looking into the mirror?  Without her saying so he somehow believed she did.  As they shared eye contact he had the feeling she was far more powerful than he had thought, more than he could imagine.  She and her people would be a frightening enemy.

"Wow," Rick breathed, the vision seeming to end as soon as it had begun, though Ardeth knew to the one seeing it would seem a lifetime.  O'Connell stepped back and looked up at them with confusion in his eyes.  He sifted a hand through his sandy hair, then shook his head.  "I saw myself running.  There was a mirror and in it I saw some other guy's reflection."

"Who you saw was Aragorn, Rick O'Connell," Galadriel said, coming forward.  "Though you come from different backgrounds, within your hearts I perceive you are not so dissimilar."

"Aragorn?  That's that guy who was supposed to be part of the Fellowship?"

The Elf nodded, then looked to Ardeth.  "And he who you saw in your vision was Denethor, Steward of Gondor and father to Boromir."

Bay and O'Connell exchanged glances, wondering at the answers to this puzzle.  Ardeth shook his head and asked, "What does it mean?  Can we go home?"

She did not answer right away.  Galadriel turned from them and moved to stand before a small waterfall from which she had drawn the water for the mirror, dipping her fingers into the cool liquid.  Both men remained respectfully quiet until at last she did speak, her words grave.  "I do not know if you can return home.  My own visions and yours tell me that you came because you are descendants from the line of kings.  Ardeth, you are from a line of protectors, the Stewards of Gondor, who protect their country from the great evil.  You, Rick, are of the blood of Numenor, an ancient race of men that are true of heart and honor, even if they do not always understand their place.  That is why the spell the Hobbit read brought you."

O'Connell shook his head.  "Whoa.  Arwen told me about Numenor.  She said they were a really classy, honorable people.  I don't…I'm not part of that.  This place isn't even the same Earth we know."

Galadriel faced them then with a smile.  "And how do you know this?"

To that the American had no answer.  He considered her words, looked up into her eyes and came back with a reply Ardeth believed typical of his manner.  "Arwen said the line of kings came from an Elf that chose mortality.  Elros or something.  Anyway, I have a question.  You think Elrond would mind if I called him Uncle Ron?  I've never had an Uncle Ron before."

Galadriel laughed, but her demeanor held onto the gravity of their situation.  Those piercing eyes softened as she regarded them both without an answer to their question.  "I do not know if you can ever return home, but the passage that was read spoke of returning the glory of the ancient blood to the line of kings.  My heart tells me if you do this, you may have a chance."

There was a long inhale at that and Rick looked decidedly uncomfortable.  "Great," he breathed, again running a hand through his hair.  His smile was half-hearted.  "I don't suppose glory can be bought anywhere."

"True glory can never be bought, Rick O'Connell, except with honor," the sorceress told him firmly, yet not without a note of hope and warning.  Words here came double-edged, they were learning; there were always two roads.  "You have a choice now.  Inside you is all you will need to find glory.  You can seek it, or you can abandon it."  Her eyes held the American captive a moment, then the tension seemed to melt away as she nodded towards a path out of the glade.  "Come.  There is much to discuss and the hour grows late.  You must decide if you will continue on the path to Mordor."

~~~~~~~

**Author**:  _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**:  No infringement intended.  Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**:  _Yes_!  By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**:  Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N:**  I'm not sure I understand the full purpose of Galady's mirror, so I came up with what I could as far as some of how it works, though I've never read anything canon about it showing "truth" or whatever.  So, just know that. :D

**1** - storyid=1409526 **Mine to Cherish**, my little ficlet with Boromir and Faramir.

Anyway, sorry I'm dragging butt in Lothlorien, it seems…but I don't want to miss plot elements. :O  They'll be on there way next Middle-earth chapter doubtlessly!

**Reviewers**:

**Tash – Thanks!  Aaaw, that's so kind of you to say. :)  Hehehe!  I'm glad you enjoyed it, just don't tell any teachers I kept you from study. :O  Thanks muchly!! :D**

**Soul** – Hmm..I figured Elves were pretty sensitive to all that was going around them, plus I thought it would be cute. ;)  Thanks!!!

**Marcher** – Yes, three halves. ;D  I am the Queen of Excuses. ;)  Thanks so much for being there, of course and reading and giving me your thoughts.  Ah Aragorn…every woman's dream I'd like to imagine.  Evy'd be a nut not to fall head over heels. ;)  Glad you're liking what I'm doing in that as well as with Jonny and Leggy.  The friendship just struck me as possible for some weird reason. ;)  Thanks!  Have a great holiday!!

**Fruit ****Loop** 7** – Wow, thanks very much!  :)  That's very nice of you to say…I'm so pleased at the reactions my humble story is getting.  Eee! Thank you dearly for your review!**

**Patty** – Legolas/Kitten…has some scary possibilities. ;D  I was a kitten last year for Halloween though, so maybe that wouldn't be so bad.  I'd marry Legolas in a heartbeat as would any sane female I'd imagine. ;D  Thank you thank you muchly!  Glad you liked!

**Asylum – Hehehe…tis the imagination that keeps me sane…or insane, rather. ;D  As for reincarnation…wow, it's a lot to think about, huh?  I mean I doubt even those people at The Mummy even really considered how raising Anck's husk body would effect Meela…weirds.  Anyway, as for defeating Immy…not sure how it's gonna do down when I get there.  I assume Evy'll read from the Book of Amun Ra as she did in Mummy…but as to how they really finish it all…hmm.  Anyway, thank you muchly for reading!  Glad you liked!**

**Golden** **Butterfly – Aaah!  Evy/Legolas, Evy/Aragorn..my heart is torn in two!  Both are such great, sexy men!  I'd love to do both and prolly will end up writing another Mummy/LOTR just because.  Oye…but thanks!  Glad you're liking this…who knows, anything can happen between here and later.  I can't decide! :D  Thankie!**

**Mommints – Thank you most kindly!  I'm pleased you liked the last chapter. :D  How are your stories???  I confess, I haven't looked too much on the Mummy page, so I wouldn't know.  Darn real life!  I WILL, by GOD, I will catch up though!  Tis a slow process, but I'm catching up on all my friends' stories each night. :)  So, I'm still running after ya!  Thanks, my friend! :D**

**Karri** – Thanks!  Wonderful work on Wonder, btw.  Excellent look into Leggy's father.  Anyway, thanks a bunch…glad you're enjoying.  Hehehe…I'm happy my dialog is staying true. :D  It means a bunch to hav people returning for more, so thank you much…hope to see more Bitterness of Mortality up soon! :D

**Deana** – Hehehe..what would life be without Ardeth receiving a death threat from me?  Muahahaha. ;)  Thanks!  Yes, there's some tension between Evy and Aragorn…yes, Ardeth is sexy when in trouble.  Maybe I'll feed him to an Orc!  Yeeeehaw! ;)


	14. Three is Company

**Bloodlines**  
Three is Company

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

The air was hot and dry even if the light of the sun had not risen just yet.  There was only one bedroom and a small bathroom closed off from the main room of the house—a sort of living room/kitchen combination that was small and unkempt.  Evelyn was allowed in neither.  She had awakened about an hour ago to dim surroundings, her eyes tied around the back of a chair and a single lamp offering vision of this place.

The furniture was sparse and very little color touched the grand scheme of the room.  Stray items, papers and little decorative items were strewn about as if this little place had been looted or ransacked.  Upon the floor near her feet was a small porcelain kitten that had been broken in two, marking this as a place that had once housed someone that had cared for it.  But not now.  Now it was a place of captivity and fear.

Across from her in a chair sat a thin man, the man Rick had identified to her as Beni—an untrustworthy, unscrupulous fellow that would do anything to further his own interests.  Beni sat there upon the comfortable piece of furniture with his left ankle crossed over his knee, a gun sitting on the arm of the chair near his elbow, his head rested on his hand and a book open in his lap.  For a long time Evelyn did not speak to this man and he seemed content with it.  He had looked up once, saw her awake and said nothing.  But over the course of long moments stretching out before her she began to question things, why she was here and the like, so soon her curiosity got the best of her.  The first question she asked seemed most important.  "Where is he?"

Beni looked up, looked her over and shrugged.  "Who knows?  Probably killing your friends.  Where is O'Connell, by the way?  Did he run away and leave you behind?  I heard something about him disappearing."

Evy's brown eyes became narrow slits.  "No, Sir, and I'll thank you not to attribute your own failings to others.  I don't know where he is, but he did not desert us!"

"Well, excuse me," Beni drawled, flipping the page of his book.  "Not that it will matter one way or another when Prince Imhotep returns."  Those two, dark eyes settled upon her in a most unwholesome fashion.  "You will not be alive for very much longer, I'm afraid.  When we reach Hamunaptra he has plans.  Life is tough, isn't it?"

With a huff, Evy looked away and examined her surroundings once more out of sheer need to stop conversing with him.  A window with a towel carelessly draped from a curtain rod over it drew her attention to the small vision of freedom outside.  It looked to be within the few hours before morning—at least she hoped another dusk was not setting another day of her captivity behind her.  It was dim outside, the sky behind whatever darkened building across from the house was lit up just barely, coloring it some stormy shade of blue.  Was Aragorn out there, looking for her?

The thought of it made her inhale deeply.  She missed him, she could admit to herself.  Somehow she knew he would not leave her to this fate.  Not if he could help it.  And somehow that made her both joyful and afraid.  _Don't be silly, girl, she told herself, absently forgetting to even try and make out features of the outside to pinpoint her location.  _Now is not the time for such nonsense!_  She pushed those burgeoning little thoughts of him away and concentrated on the here and now._

Beni was watching her, she noticed right off, a fact that did not leave comfortable feelings behind.  She could not read those beady eyes and could not glean what he might be thinking or planning.  Just what had Imhotep commanded, anyway?  Hopefully he had at least demanded she remain untouched.  Unsavory imaginations stirred within her, but Beni made no move to bring them to life.  With an annoyed glare, as if he detested babysitting, he took to reading again.

Evy shifted uncomfortably in her bonds, testing the strength with which she had been tied.  Her legs had been placed against the legs of her chair and her arms behind her back.  She found she could shift her wrists within the rough rope.  Perhaps if she wriggled enough, it would come undone.  Her shoulders shook as she worked, a fact that did not go unnoticed after the first five minutes had passed.  "I would not do that if I were you," he warned, not bothering to look up.  "If Imhotep returns and I have to explain why you're unconscious again, he might not be too happy.  He gets grumpy."

"I don't suppose you'll let me use the washroom," she murmured irritably.

The snide little man grinned and flipped another page.  "I don't suppose you'd mind if I watched."

"Disgusting," Evy accused him then.

He smiled and bowed his head.  "Thank you."  He gazed upon her for a few moments, seeing her failed amusement, then sighed and came before her.  A finger pointed into her face suddenly and his manner became slightly condescending.  "I suppose I could let you go.  Don't try anything.  I would really hate to hurt you."

Evy bit her lip against any remarks, nodded and waited while he freed her wrists, then bent to start on her legs.  "I'll handle those, thank you," she said in a clipped tone, not eager to have his hands upon her more than was required.  He stood back and watched as she untied herself, then motioned her towards the bathroom.

Her pulse picked up with every step, his wiry frame tracing her movements until they reached the bathroom door.  Then her spirits sank.  The one window in that tiny room was much too small.  If she were lucky, she would be able to fit her head out, but nothing more.  He smirked, following her glance, then shoved her in.  Evy turned around with a cold expression, then slammed the door shut in his face, locking it behind her.  When she turned pale off-white glared at her from every corner.  The bathroom was painfully bare.  All white porcelain and walls.  Quickly, Evy opened the medicine cabinet, hoping she could find anything at all to use as a weapon.

Her hand settled on a jar of shaving cream, which she removed as she scouted through the small cabinet.  Bandages, soap, perfume and other odds and ends cluttered.  "Ooh, drat!" she hissed, coming back empty handed.  Putting the lid down, Evelyn sat upon the hard surface with slumped shoulders, searching herself desperately for an idea.  She hardly thought stabbing Beni with the tube of lipstick in there would solve matters.  But she could possibly write a note!  Evy looked at the door, then grabbed the lipstick from the cabinet.

There would be nothing but toilet paper to write on, but perhaps it would be enough.  Oh, she knew the odds of anyone actually finding this were slim, but there had to be hope.  Taking a long strip of the soft, white paper from its dispenser, Evy stretched it across the sink counter then opened the tube of mauve lip color.  She couldn't exactly write a book, she knew, and she didn't even know where to tell anyone to come, so she simply wrote in large lettering, 'HELP' across the white.

The window was not easily pried open, for she feared forcing it too hard lest it alert Beni to her activities, but with a little effort and through Beni knocking and insisting she hurry up, Evelyn managed to get it open a crack.  Across from the window she could see another building, perhaps another house about ten feet away.  Maybe someone would see it and chance to help her.  Maybe.

Evy pushed the paper from the window and held the end of it on the sill, then closed the pane over it, hoping it would hold up.  The sun was rising fast now, bringing blessed daylight into a city in ruins.  Another knock at the door startled her, warning her that her time was very limited.  "Almost done," she snapped, fumbling to get all the stray things she had removed back into the cabinet.  Then straightening herself, she flushed and opened the door.

Beni's eyes were curious and dark as he stood aside, willing her out.  When she passed he went into the bathroom and looked around, seeing if anything were out of place.  His foolishness was something to be taken advantage of.  As soon as his back was turned Evelyn bolted for the front.  "Hey!" he shouted, quickly following after her.

She slammed into the front door, anxiously grabbing for the handle and turning it.  The door had opened an inch when he reached her, pushing her against it roughly so it would shut.  Evelyn groaned at the pain, but fought him like a trapped animal, throwing herself back into him and knocking him off balance.  Beni hit the floor with a thud, glared at her and grabbed her ankle, yanking her down with him.  "This is the thanks I get for letting you up?" he asked, struggling to grasp her wrists.

Now, Evy had never really punched a man in her life—not counting her drunken encounter with O'Connell which she blushed upon thinking of and of course the few times she actually hit Jonathan for his crude behavior—but she felt this time called for it.  Beni paused for a split second as she drew her fist back, then launched it directly into his left eye.  Immediately he covered it protectively with his hand as he took a moment to let his surprise wear off, then rolled away when she actually started kicking him.  When he was sufficiently preoccupied Evy shot up, grabbed the handle and flung open the door, ignoring his hissing summons for her to return.

The way was free.  Evelyn could have burst into tears when she hit the fresh air, nearly tumbled down the steps and out onto the sidewalk.  She could see where she was now—the outskirts of town.  Not a very good place to be.  It didn't matter.  _Someone_ would help her get away from Beni before Imhotep returned!  "Help me!" she called out, praying for that someone to have good ears.

Her second call did not go unanswered.  Evelyn's stomach fluttered as she saw the dark shade of a figure heading towards her.  There was no question as to who it was and she made no move to run.  Breathless Beni came up behind her, shoving her towards Imhotep with a growl.  "Nice try," he hissed angrily.

Closing in the priest pulled his hood back, fixing unreadable eyes upon her.  His robes moved fluidly with his steps, quick and yet somehow mild as if her escape did not trouble him at all.  When she backed away, he smiled and said, "Nefertiri, my princess, did you think you could escape _me?_"  His voice was haughty and confident as he reached for her.

At her tremble his smile increased, but quickly disappeared as he jerked her forward.  She could almost remember those eyes, grave and almost angry.  _Almost, but not quite.  Somehow she knew he could look much more threatening if he cared.  Her escape no more than an irritant, Imhotep cocked his head and asked a simple question._

"Where are they?"

~~~~~~~

He had scarcely left the window all night, explaining to the others that Elves required little rest and that he was the logical choice to take up watch.  They had agreed to allow it, but of course had not done so without the Med-Jai taking shifts as well.  Legolas took no offence at that.  He understood that he was an alien here, that trust would not be easily gained for whom he had replaced.  In truth it freed his mind to think on things other than impending doom.  Unfortunately, it freed him to worry as well.

Aragorn had not returned yet and the sun had already reached the horizon.  Not long after midnight had Abdul-Medjid Bay returned with all that was left of his company, leaving only the Ranger and the woman left unaccounted for.  The Med-Jai leader had not taken well to learning of the death of Daniels.  Neither had Henderson, who had gone so far as to point the finger of blame at both he and Jonathan.  Bay had not said anything of the sort, but there was a dark gravity about his eyes that spoke of his fear and displeasure.  His cousin, the curator of this place, had been very vocal about the importance of watching over Henderson.  Then of course the American himself had given fervent agreement to that.

Henderson was the last American to remain alive, the last that took part in the great curse.  He was the final thread holding back the dark and if he were taken by the Priest Imhotep all would be lost, for nothing save a missing book could even hope to end his power.  It was the same story back home and he pondered, trying to figure this future out.  Had Sauron survived, the Fellowship failed?  Or had he lost and evil endured?  Both thoughts were equally troubling.  So many questions there were, so many things that had no answer.  He had been told of the lands west of the continent they were on, lands inhabited by Men, a place that could not be the Undying Lands.  He did not like to think on it directly, but inside there was a small fear growing of a question that was important to his own future.  Could he still reach the Undying Lands?  He had little doubt the Grey Havens had long been abandoned and destroyed.

"See anything?" called a voice touched by the weariness of awakening.  The leader of the Med-Jai came to stand beside him, his hand bearing two cups of a dark liquid.  He handed the Elf one, to which Legolas nodded his thanks.

Legolas took a sip of the coffee, made a face, then resumed his watch.  "I see a world that bears only a remnant of that which marks it as my own.  Things have changed and time has passed, but somehow I know it is the same."

Abdul-Medjid nodded slowly, drinking his coffee with reflective eyes.  He inhaled deeply as if the fresh air could touch him through the pane of glass that separated him from it.  "Such a strange notion, time travel.  But I am certainly no stranger to the strange, as they say.  What happened to your people, do you think?"

This was the first Bay had asked of Legolas, other than where he thought his son might be.  The Elf did not know whether speaking would ease his tension or increase it, but he decided to try.  If this were permanent, if this were now his home and he would remain lost to Valinor until the end of ages, he would want to remember his dream of Aman fondly and not cast it aside in anguish.  Yet the thought of being separate grieved him enough to lower his voice and eyes.  "The map I was shown of the world.  Long ago where your Americas stood there used to be a land where dwelt the Valar, angels in your tongue, and the Elves.  At the end of the first age it was taken from the world, but Elves could still reach it by a spiritual plane.  That is where my people would have gone over the ages."

The next question from the lips of this warrior was not unforeseen.  "Can you go there now?"

The Mirkwood Elf shook his head and looked upon the world outside, seeing no answer and feeling none in his heart.  "I do not know."  To this his now silent companion remained thus, watching the street with him.  With a glance Legolas thought he saw compassion dawn in those eyes, however, and that small gesture gave him hope.

Then a form outside caught his sharp eyes and Legolas's grief became gladness as he stepped away, headed for the main entrance to the museum and swung open the door.  Upon the street came his missing friend who was dirty, tired and alone.  The smile upon his lips died then, when Aragorn looked up with lost eyes.  "Where is Evelyn?" he asked, coming to his friend's side and looking beyond.  He foresaw an answer to that question before it even passed his friend's lips.

"I have lost her," Aragorn reported in a voice dulled by hours of searching.  He brushed a lock of his hair away from his face, shaking his head in sorrow.  "The creature came with fire.  He took her and…and I could not stop him."

Legolas clasped a hand over Aragorn's shoulder in comfort.  "We will not give up hope, mellon nin."  His friend returned the gesture with a nod.

Then Aragorn let go, his blue eyes earnest as he looked beyond at the museum.  "What news of how we may stop this creature?  His might is great and I fear will only grow if he takes those which he seeks."

Instead of Legolas it was Bay that replied gravely.  "My cousin has said the only hope lies within a book that is missing.  He said it may have been buried at Hamunaptra with the Book of the Dead, but he does not know for certain.  He will study on it more.  For now we must keep Henderson safe at all costs."

"What of Evelyn?" Aragorn then asked, his voice laden with the concern that grew heavy upon him.  "Does he understand what this creature wants of her?"

Bay shook his head.  "Nefertiri was a princess that lived in the days of Imhotep's life.  Perhaps this Evelyn looks like her somewhat.  We do not know.  But that he called her Ancksunamun does not bode well, he fears.  He could use Evelyn to awaken his dead lover from the Netherworld."  Aragorn's eyes widened in alarm, but the Med-Jai waved his hand in forestalling.  "To do this he will have to take the girl to Hamunaptra where Ancksunamun lays.  We think he will not do this without being fully regenerated.  He will need full power to do his black spell."

The Ranger inhaled, considering these things carefully.  Without needing to hear it the Elf knew what Aragorn would say.  "Let my friend and I search for Evelyn.  Will you trust us now?"  Legolas turned his vision towards Bay, trying to add his assurance to that through his eyes.

Abdul-Medjid's eyes traveled them over, weighing between intuition and what he thought was tactically right.  The choice did not come easily to this man of war.  Aside from trust there was the matter of whether or not this was a worthy quest to send them on when they could be needed here.  "I do not like this," he confessed, addressing Aragorn.  "Even if you did find her, if she were with the creature he could easily kill you both and right now I need men, not to mention figuring out this business of where my son has gone.  My cousin has no answers concerning that.  He has never heard of men being replaced by others, not now and not in the ancient days."

"But if we do not at least try…"

Legolas put a hand to Aragorn's shoulder, holding him back from argument.  "You are exhausted, mellon nin.  I will go alone if need be and search for you."

"Legolas, I cannot ask you to go alone."  Aragorn shook his head firmly, but the Elf knew his friend would see the right in this.

A smirk spread across his lips then.  "Go and take rest.  You know you will only get in my way in this condition and I cannot carry you and she back here alone."

Aragorn gave him a steely look, but relented, rubbing a hand across his sweaty forehead.  He turned to Abdul-Medjid with grave eyes.  "Will you consent to this?"

The Med-Jai nodded reluctantly, then turned towards the museum.  "Legolas," he called back, pausing in his stride.  "Cover those ears."

The Elf rolled his eyes, but complied for the sake of wisdom, his hands going to the braids at either side of his head to free them.  Aragorn watched this with a wan smile, clapping his friend on the shoulder.  "Be safe, Legolas.  I will rest for a few hours and then join you."

Legolas laughed and began away.  "In a few hours I shall have her by my side and the creature at my feet, with her kiss as my prize."  He had meant it as a self-righteous joke, but something passed through Aragorn's eyes that caused a seed of something uneasy to grow within his belly.  Nevertheless his friend brushed it aside with a laugh and turned away, heading into the museum.

The Prince of Mirkwood turned upon the city of Cairo, seeing ruin and mayhem awaiting him.

~~~~~~~

**Author**:  Ruse – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**:  No infringement intended.  Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**:  Yes!  By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**:  Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**:  Just to let everyone know, I _hate that Haldir scene in TTT!  :-O_

Oh, for those that don't know in case I've never mentioned before:  Mellon nin = friend my.  Elvish grammar. :-O

**Reviewers**:

**Terreis** – Thank you very much!  You bringing two fandoms together?  Which two?  Hehehe. ;-)  I know I can't help tormenting Ardeth…it's just so fun.  :-D  Thanks for reviewing…glad you're enjoying!

**Jedi** **Buttercup – I think I might take it on through ROTK actually…not sure.  But I'm happy you like it. :-)  As for your question, I really can't say as I don't even know what will happen yet.  I have an idea, but I'm not sure if I'll do it or not.  Hmmm.  Thanks! :-)**

**Marcher** – Thank you very much for your kind words on this and Mine to Cherish.  Yeah, poor Boromir just don't get enough credit.  *sniff*  Thankie much, my friend. :-)

**Kirsty****-Q – Thanks…yeah, that Elf ears line gets me every time. ;-)  Sheeshers.  Gotta love it, though, eh?  Thanks!**

**Asylum** – RE: Haldir, you read my mind. ;-)  I love Hal as well.  He's sa purty.  Yes, they do need an Elf to guide them, I do agree.  Thank you much for your kind review.  Glad you're enjoying. :-D

**Deana** – If you looked in Galady's mirror you would see me kidnapping all the male Elves for to serve as my slaves. ;-)  Yes, feed Ardeth to an Orc.  Muahahahaha.  ;-)  CHOMP CHOMP.  Thanks!

**Karri** – Thank you muchly, my friend!  Glad you're liking this and finding funny moments. :-)  Thank you for your high compliment concerning that certain paragraph. About Rick. Ardeth and Hal. :-D  Eee!


	15. Farewell to Lorien, Hello to Chaos

**Bloodlines**  
Farewell to Lorien, Hello to Chaos

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

Her gift had been the Light of Earendil.  Sitting within the small boat, enjoying the simple pleasure of allowing a cool breeze to pass through his hair, Frodo turned the small vial over in his hand again as he had every so often since they had left the borders of Lorien.  How does one capture the light of a star and lock it away inside a prison of glass?  Perhaps Elves could simply do anything.  Wind rustled in the trees, the water lapped at the shores on either side of the river and the atmosphere cooled in the fading light.  It was almost enough to relax the Ringbearer, if it were not for the heaviness that had settled upon him since the death of Gandalf.

Visions of the terror of Moria assailed Frodo once more, as ever they did in his dreams and the quiet moments when he was alone.  Gandalf had been there from the beginning of this quest.  He had been a part of Frodo's life, coming and going as he pleased, but always a trusted friend.  Frodo's link to the world outside the Shire.  Now he had to rely upon the wisdom of strangers, for his own Hobbit kin knew only as much about the world as he did.  How would he know the right path to take, now that Gandalf was gone?

Inhaling the fresh, crisp air Frodo looked to his left and smiled, seeing his cousins up to their usual tricks.  The Marchwarden of Lorien, Haldir, had been asked to join them by the Lord and Lady, to take the place of he who was missing and add to the wisdom of the Fellowship.  Gimli had steadfastly refused to ride with the Elf and that was more than okay with the other.  Now, however, Frodo wondered if Haldir might be considering otherwise.  Merry and Pippin had the foresight to grab a handful of rocks each and were now taking turns pelting each other, as Merry had taken his seat upon another boat with the Captain of Gondor.

As a small stone bounced off Merry's head and hit the water Boromir laughed, enjoying the distraction from silence.  The Hobbit scowled at his cousin then promptly tossed his retaliation with enthusiasm.  Pippin ducked quickly and a speck of gray flew past Haldir's face.  Unfortunately, that was not the end of it.  The force from Pippin's sudden movement rocked the boat, almost capsizing it.  Instantly the Marchwarden reacted, urging himself in the opposite direction the Hobbit had taken so as to restore balance, causing quite a splash.  Pippin gave a cry and flattened against the floor.  By now both Merry and Boromir were laughing out loud, but the look upon the face of the Elf was anything but amused.

The Elves of Lorien, he imagined, weren't entirely accustomed to such wild and exuberant young beings.  "Do that again and I shall throw you overboard," the Marchwarden threatened in a steely voice as he pulled the oars.  He had had his fill of this little game, it seemed.

The Hobbit looked indignant, but nevertheless stuffed his remaining ammunition away—probably for later if Frodo knew anything of his cousin.  Merry jiggled his in his hand as if seeking a new target for his fun.  He turned towards Frodo's own boat and gave a wicked little grin at Sam.  Rick chuckled and said, "If you knock this boat over I won't hesitate to swim over there and drag you into the cold water with me."  Merry sighed and put his stones away, but not before glancing at the boat with Gimli and Ardeth Bay.

"Perhaps we should stop for the night," suggested the Med-Jai as he examined the dimming skyline.  "I think we are all getting a bit restless."

Pippin rubbed his belly and agreed whole-heartedly.  "Yeah.  I'm getting hungry."

Behind him the Marchwarden grunted and pulled the oars back.  "I fail to see how you could possibly be hungry.  Do not think I am unaware of how many cakes of Lembas passed your lips.  You should be on the floor of this vessel, wailing and begging me to kill you."  The Elf stopped rowing a moment and looked around.

Merry grinned.  "Never underestimate the appetite of a Hobbit, I say.

Haldir pursed his lips.  "I shall remember that.  However, I do agree that we should stop.  It will soon be dark."

The company pulled the boats aside at the first sign of a viable shoreline down the river.  They chose the western side of the Silverlode and when the boat halted, Frodo took his leave of it gratefully.  Stepping onto the dirt, he stretched and found a nice, comfy looking spot near a fallen tree log.  He threw his pack down there and Sam did the same, ever wanting to watch over his friend.  Frodo sighed and turned away from those concerned eyes.  Oh, he knew Sam only meant the best, but more and more it was beginning to trouble him what he knew he must do.  Galadriel had certain insights into how each member of this Fellowship thought and had warned him against what the Ring could do to any one of them.

"Mr. Frodo," came that ever present voice and Frodo turned with a small smile.  Sam was setting up his pans for cooking with Merry and Pippin looking on in interest.  His friend motioned him over and he sighed, seeing no alternative.  He couldn't let them worry no matter how worried he was himself.  He would see no one else suffer the doubts that plagued him if he could help it.  So he joined them somewhat reluctantly, trying his best to push the burden aside.

Ardeth Bay watched this with interest.  He had not had the advantage Rick had in getting to know the Ringbearer since their spilt, but even now he could recognize certain things he himself could identify with.  It was written in the eyes of Frodo Baggins when he thought no one was watching.  With responsibility of this magnitude came a sense of loneliness and pressure.  Ardeth knew loneliness and pressure well.

He knew it in being the only son of the Med-Jai leader.  Of being born into mystery and having to repay the eternal debt the Med-Jai owed for allowing a king to perish and burdening the world with an unholy being of power.  No one understood what it was to wait for destiny, to have a duty to many people.  To fear failure.  Ardeth was a confident man, but only fools did not concede to the reality that all are imperfect and sometimes imperfection had a deadly cost.

Laying his pack open the ground, he removed the sword that had been given him.  It was an elegant thing, wrought of fine silver and down the length of the blade was carved intricate vines and words in the language of Elves.  They said these words imbued the blade with a fire that would burn the flesh of servants of the dark.  He gave it a test swing, finding it light and swift.  It was a weapon that would serve him well, he foresaw.

Haldir watched him with keen eyes, tending his own weaponry.  "Never will you see a blade so fine," he commented.  "It belonged to the kin of Galadriel, if I'm not mistaken.  A truly worthy gift indeed."

Ardeth looked down the blade, then at the Elf.  "I did not consider it would have been something belonging to her family, otherwise I would not have taken it from her."

"She would not have wanted it that way," Haldir replied simply, sheathing a dagger to his side.  His blue eyes scanned the dimming woods around them.  "I would like to have a look around and perhaps gather some wood for kindling."

A breeze brushed through Ardeth's hair as he too examined their surroundings.  "I will accompany you," he offered.

There was a flash of hesitance in those ageless eyes, so fleeting Ardeth wondered if perhaps it had been there at all.  Haldir nodded once and turned towards the woods, saying, "Very well."

Ardeth gave a look to O'Connell, who nodded his understanding of where they were headed, then hastened to the Elf's side.  The Marchwarden offered him a glance, then trained his attention upon the thriving woods they disappeared into.  The hour was fast growing late, sunlight fading and welcoming shadows into twilight's gold.  "You do not interact with humans very often, do you?" Ardeth asked him curiously.

Haldir raised a brow momentarily, but did not share his glance this time.  "It is true we do not interact with the world of Men so quickly.  Our human kin are brash and resentful sometimes of our wisdom and long life.  It is…easier to remain apart."

Reflections of that could be found in Ardeth's own experience.  It was easier sometimes, to pretend the rest of the world did not exist.  To pretend the encampment was at the edge of existence and beyond was nothing but sand.  "I understand," he replied quietly, content with the silence between their strides.

It was silent here within the forest, as still as the dawn rising.  Caught up in thoughts of his people Ardeth almost did not question that until again Haldir spoke up.  "Unfortunately, separation has not been granted us," he said quite calmly, now facing Ardeth as he urged him to a stop.  The Elf sniffed the air, his eyes darting through the brush.  "Can you smell it?"

Ardeth inhaled deeply, catching nothing more than a soft impression of something wrong with the air.  "I cannot tell," he said and Haldir took another breath.

"Smoke.  A fire was made nearby not so long ago."  Both men looked above, but saw no trace of it on the skyline.  Haldir shook his head.  "I do not like this.  I think it wise we should not linger upon these shores.  Evil is abroad as Lord Celeborn warned me."

"Orcs?"

The Elf nodded grimly, then motioned on ahead.  "We should scout the area, but be careful not to stray too far lest we find company.  Something is wrong here."

Ardeth could feel the truth in that, if only fleetingly.  It was something that danced upon the edge of suspicion, an intuition rather than a tangible thing to one that hunted and was accustomed to being hunted.  He followed the Elf further into the woods, feeling that sense of unease increase.  He had learned that his Elven friends had more acute senses, sharper ears and eyes, greater smell and perception.  So as Haldir slowed, he followed in kind until both men crept upon sounds that Ardeth was aware of.

In this distance he could make out the sound of many feet hitting the dirt and growling, inhuman voices snarling some black conversation.  It was then Haldir stopped, resting his hand upon Ardeth's shoulder to forestall movement.  "We are being tracked," he whispered so softly Ardeth barely heard.  The Elf shook his head, listening intently to the sounds of the trees.  "Long have I felt eyes upon us, yet not so near as this.  They will have sent runners to the shore to spy upon us."

Ardeth tried to see through the darkened trees, searching for any sign of these terrible creatures.  "Runners that are no doubt on their way back to tell their commander we've landed ashore."

Haldir nodded gravely, his eyes sparkling in the dark.  "We must return now."

The Med-Jai was quick to agree and with little prompting, both retreated back into the dark towards their camp.  There was no smoke upon the air yet, a good sign that no fire had been made to give away their company and yet a sinking feeling also told him that his companions may simply have not had time to create one if Orcs were on the prowl.  They ran on light feet, careful not to reveal a sound to any ears that would hear them.

But it was not enough.  In the trees around them another set of footfalls became apparent and wordlessly, Haldir pulled Ardeth from their trail to the side behind a great oak.  He motioned for silence and they listened as two voices filtered to them from the woods.  They were hideous and terrible, almost animal in likeness as they spoke back and forth of what they had seen near the river.  "It's been long since we've had any fresh meat," growled one hungrily, apparent glee in his voice.  "I say we go back and take 'em ourselves!"

His companion snarled in irritation.  "You know the orders as well as I!  We lose those little ones, we've had it.  You seen what Ugluk does to them that question orders."

The reply nothing less than chilling; a growl that was deep and malicious.  "Bah!  What's a wizard want with unspoiled halflings, anyway?"

"It's not for us to question."

Ardeth and Haldir exchanged concerned looks as the Orcs passed them buy, tromping angrily back to their company.  "They will give us away," Haldir whispered, drawing his bow quietly and notching an arrow.  "We must stop them if we can."

Despite his misgivings, Ardeth recognized this man as one of action and knew his mind was set upon this course even as Haldir took aim.  "What if they call out?"

"Then it will matter little than had we chosen to allow them to return to their masters," the Elf replied, his eyes trained ahead.  "Go on ahead and attack the other one as soon as I shoot.  I'm taking the one on the left.  I will wait until you are near."

The Med-Jai drew his weapon and crept forward, seeing the logic in taking a chance.  If they could overpower them before they reached the others, so much the better to cover their escape.  Quiet as a desert breeze, he walked, until finally he saw looming forms ahead.  One was taller than the other and more bulky, but both bled evil from their very presence.  Ardeth hunkered down in preparation as he drew nearer.

A rushing sound filled the air as expected and a sudden 'thwack' followed by a groan told him a target had been hit.  Wasting no time Ardeth rushed his quarry and threw himself into the one still standing.  It gave a surprised gasp and struggled beneath him as he drew up his sword, then struck downward into the creature.  He then caught his first vision of what an Orc looked like.  Its skin was dark and leathery, marred by darkness and ill-favor.  Two eyes seemed to glow almost as they regarded him in wide open shock, arms flailing as pain and death descended.

The other Orc was not so unfortunate.  A second arrow cut the air, but this bigger beast was quicker than his companion.  He rolled away before it hit and glared Ardeth down from the grass nearby.  He pounced quicker than expected and in the breath of a second Ardeth was covered by a heavy form and rolling through the dirt.  The large Orc gave a loud growl that filled the silent woods, undoubtedly alerting the others on ahead.  Large hands gripped his shirt and threw him back into the ground, knocking him breathless as he struggled for freedom.

Another arrow pelted the ground near them, but the Orc holding kept them moving as he tried to kill Ardeth.  Such brute force came from this being, such terrible strength that Ardeth feared it might just get its wish.  Blindly in the dark Ardeth punched his foe in the face, winning an angry hiss and a slap three times as powerful.  His head hit the dirt and for a moment he saw stars, but he did not give up the struggle.  He could hear footsteps closing in upon them and saw a flash of platinum hair, naming Haldir as he who approached.  The sharp sound of his dagger being drawn entered the air and now this fiend above Ardeth had two to contend with.

The Elf kicked the great Orc in the head, stunning it but momentarily, enough for Ardeth to shove him away and escape.  The Orc was quick to recover, though, and quickly drew its own weapon.  Ardeth backtracked to the dead one and reclaimed his sword as Haldir raised his dagger in defense.  The Orc cocked its head and snarled at Haldir, reaching behind to pull the arrow from its back.  He broke it in two and tossed the pieces to the ground at the Elf's feet.

It laughed darkly.  "The White Wizard didn't say anything against killin' you big folk!  I've been looking forward to a nice, big meal."  He threw down his great sword and Haldir dodged quite easily.

"You shall not wait long for your hunger to cease," the Marchwarden hissed, thrusting out with his blade towards the beast's throat.  The Orc slammed his sword against the dagger, sweeping the Elf back through sheer force.

Ardeth struck out with his sword, hitting against the Orc's armored side, slicing the thick leather, but not winning through to flesh.  As it tried to counter, Haldir plunged his dagger down into its chest, but movement deflected too far away from the heart.  Angry, the Orc flung himself into both Man and Elf, knocking them to the ground roughly.  Ardeth struggled to get a hand free, then wrapped his fingers around the dagger's hilt as the Orc reached for Haldir's throat.  The Med-Jai yanked the dagger free and was backhanded in retribution.

That did not deter him from shoving the dagger into the creature's stomach.  It gave a great yell and let go of Haldir, long enough for the Elf to get free.  But it was now too late.  Even still the Orc struggled to gain a victory, clutching the dagger in one hand and grabbing Ardeth's shirt with the other.  As Haldir searched the ground for a weapon, it dragged the Med-Jai by his shirt through the darkness.  He could hear the others coming now.  He could hear growls and the clanking of armored feet and war calls.  And Ardeth knew then that it was over.  "Go!" he shouted in command to the Elf.

Haldir whipped around from his search, his eyes wide in both understanding and hesitation.  Then Ardeth saw his head turn towards what came from ahead.  Again he shouted, "Go!" and the Marchwarden gave him a parting glance to convey his want to help, but they both knew he could not.  The others had to be warned.  They _had_ to reach the eastern shore at all costs, even the cost of his life.

The dragging stopped suddenly and above there was terrible, hungry chuckle and then blackness took his senses.

~~~~~~~

**Author**:  _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**:  No infringement intended.  Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**:  _Yes_!  By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**:  Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

**A/N**:  A bit shorter than usual, but still interesting I hope. :-)

**Reviewers**:

**Marcher** – Thankie, thankie!  Glad you liked!  Those heart strings might be pulled a weetle bit. ;-)  Muahahaha.  Thanks for the review!  How is COHS coming…I haven't gotten an alert if you ever added another chapter.  *sniff*  I'll have to go check that after uploading.

**Soul** – He might have fallen for Evy…not sure yet. ;-)  Thanks!

**Sirithiliel** – Thanks!  Yeah, a contest between Immy and Legolas would be interesting, huh?  Might just be coming up soon, too. :-D

**Lulu ****Bell – Thanks for reviewing.  RE: Ardeth…I have a hard time writing him as he was in TM…my vision of him is as I saw him in TMR…a little more mature and subdued.  Bleh…it's rough trying to capture him as he was in TM.  Doh!  As for Legolas…I can't help it, I grabbed onto the humorous side of him in TTT and it stuck.  Though I will say I do believe he would drink…Mirkwood Elves are ever fond of strong drink…even a few got drunk and fell asleep in Hobbit…not exactly how I picture Elves acting necessarily, but it was there. ;-)  Anyway...thanks for the thoughts!**

**Jedi Buttercup** – Thank you very much.  I'm glad you like my characterizations of Evy and Beni…don't see Beni too often in TM…but I'm glad I could make his presence feelable. :-D  Hope you continue reading!

**Terreis** – Hehe..you sure don't hear those two names together often. ;-)  Glad you're enjoying what I'm doing. :-)  Thank you much for reading and for thoughts!!! :-D

**Deana** – Yeah, gotta make Aragorn jealous. ;-)  Cause what would the world be like if Aragorn weren't brooding? :-D  And anyway, Legolas is taking comfort from me…Legolas and Elrond both. ;-)  Those Hobbits really jarred Elrond's sensibilities.


	16. Fundamental Gains and Losses

**Bloodlines**  
Fundamental Gains and Losses

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

~~~~~~~

A small, white and otherwise innocuous door was opened for them and a light turned on by the flipping of a switch.  The sparse illumination brought wooden walls and strange devices into view.  "Here you are, Elf," said the large Med-Jai with a smile.  "It's a far cry from what we do in the desert and your woodland home I would wager.  I believe I will leave you to figure it out on your own."  There was a small laugh, then he turned away with a parting glance aimed at the both of them.  The Elf's brows knit as he watched Abdul-Medjid Bay leave them to the task at hand.

Aragorn leaned over the shoulder of Legolas, peering into the small room.  When his eyes fell upon a small, white seat whose center had been removed, he smirked and nudged his friend forward.  "Go ahead, Legolas."

Legolas gave him a flat look, then disappeared into the room, shutting the door behind him.  Hours of fruitless searching had left the Elf and the Ranger tired, hungry and a little of something else.  Taking a deep breath, Aragorn crossed the hall and leaned against the wall, running hands over his hair as twenty things raced through his mind.  He had not taken much rest since Evelyn had disappeared.  Legolas had gone in search alone, but Aragorn could not bear to leave him to it for too long.  Somewhere along the way on a street Aragorn did not know except by view they met and his friend had given him a stern look, but accepted the help anyway, knowing it would prove fruitless to argue.

The Med-Jai believed that Imhotep would not leave Cairo without obtaining the other American, for without being at full power he could not have any hope of raising his lost love, but where then would he keep Evelyn while waiting?  When tracking he would look for the tell-tale signs and follow them to his quarry, but how does one follow signs that are all around him?  The whole of Cairo was in despair.  Still, he was comforted by the fact that when he and his companion had traveled to the outskirts of town there had been no signs of the fire and destruction that blanketed within.  Despite the reassurance Imhotep would be in town Aragorn found himself questioning whether or not that mentality should be relied upon so heavily.

A sudden rushing sound filled the air, dragging the tired Ranger out of his thoughts and bringing him to stand a little straighter.  His hand on his sword hilt, he called, "Legolas?'

From behind the door a muffled voice called out, "'Tis nothing, Estel."  His friend sounded a bit amused.  The sound of what seemed like a tiny waterfall accompanied the Elf's new silence before he emerged, wiping his hands on a towel.  Pushing it into Aragorn's hand, Legolas bowed slightly and motioned him in.  "I believe I will leave you to figure it out on your own."

The Ranger grunted, then passed Legolas up and entered.  Ignoring the seatless chair, he studied the sink and its strange knobs.  Turning one produced the suspected effect, but before touching the small stream Aragorn thought a little about it.  Two knobs…what should the other one produce?  Tentatively, he touched the falling water with the tip of his finger and pulled his hand back when the hot temperature bit at his flesh.  He turned that knob off, then tested the other one, guessing there would be a difference.

When the water was at a cool temperature, Aragorn exhaled with a sudden refresh of tiredness, leaned down against the sides of the sink and drew the freshness over his face.  After roughing it in the hot desert without a river to bathe in, this felt particularly nice.  It washed away the sweat of his search and the dirt of his failure, but not the worry contained within him.  These enemies he knew not.  If Evelyn had died in his failure to protect her…

Aragorn smoothed another handful of the clear water over his face, closing his eyes and savoring the feel.  When he straightened he met his reflection in an ornately framed mirror and searched those eyes as if they would deliver answers.  In defeat, he smoothed his now damp hair back from the sides of his face.  There were no answers to be found.

He took up the towel, drying his hands and then gave the toilet a sidelong glance.  A sudden crack, loud and jarring, broke his thoughts immediately.  Outside Legolas called, "Aragorn, tolo!  Goston amarth anglenna!"

Emerging from the small refreshing facility, Aragorn saw his companion already halfway down the hall towards the main display room where the Med-Jai congregated.  The very walls seemed to tremble beneath the sway of something power, which could prove to be one thing.  His hand found the hilt of Anduril in preparation for the inevitable.

The Med-Jai had taken defensive stance already and their leader was positioned at a nearby window, the drapes drawn back and his face pensive.  He shook his head, looking to Dr. Bey who hovered nearby.  "He controls them it appears.  His powers are great."

Approaching, Aragorn asked, "What is it?" and peered out the window as the curtain was pulled aside.  Outside he saw not a monster, but the very people whose lives they were trying to protect by putting the creature back into its grave.  Their gazes were dreamlike and thoughtless, their movements slow and steady.  They came with enthralled attention, the name of Imhotep at their lips.  "What can be done?  We surely cannot end the lives of innocents.  Do they have hope of recovery from this?"

Abdul-Medjid shook his head with a frustrated breath.  "That I do not know.  We have seen nothing of this power in 3,000 years, if even then.  He speaks with the authority of the undead.  These poor souls may already be devoured beyond recovery."  He looked to the curator for wisdom and was met by uncertainty.

Petting his stray kitten, Jonathan joined them.  "What in blazes is causing that terrible shaking?  Surely it can't be just them."  The little animal mewled in distaste of what was going on outside, perking its ears up and darted wide-eyed glances outside the window.

They had an answer to that soon enough.  The grave vigil continued as the crowd gathering outside came to a halt, staring with lifeless eyes towards the museum.  And suddenly they parted down the center.  Aragorn and Legolas exchanged looks, surmising what would emerge from that pathway.

He came with a slow, purposeful gait and dark, confident eyes, robed in the color of shadows and touched by the hand of decay.  On his left Evelyn stumbled in step with him, held directly beside him by a grasp she could not free herself from.  Aragorn hissed in a breath unconsciously, tightening his fingers around the hilt of his sword.  Imhotep spotted them watching, came to stand in full view of the window and shoved Evelyn to the ground.  She immediately looked for a means of escape, but his thralls closed in to prevent her escape.  In loud, unearthly tones the dread priest began to speak in his dark tongue.

"I will kill the girl if you do not give me the one I seek," translated Dr. Bey.

Legolas shook his head sadly.  "What can we do?"

The curator looked at him sharply.  "Well, we certainly cannot give him the American!"  His expression grew stern at the protest that Legolas, Aragorn and Jonathan were about to make.  "It doesn't bother me any less than it does you.  I knew her parents.  They were fine people and while she can be a pest, I do care for her.  But to let Imhotep regain his full powers for one life is madness!  He already commands great forces.  Think of what he would be like if his power was complete!"

It was tactically true, but to leave a lady to such a fate seemed shameful to Aragorn.  He looked to the curator urgently.  "Can you not speak to him?  Negotiate?"

A dubious grunt preceded his reply.  "Negotiate?  With a madman?"

"We cannot let Evelyn die," Legolas countered firmly.  The Elf glared out the window at the fell beast, his eyes betraying his mind's inner workings.  "Perhaps a ruse of some sort?"

Impatiently, Imhotep shouted something in angry tones.  Bey repeated in English, "You test me foolishly."

A soft sound drew all eyes to the ball of fur in Jonathan's arms.  Legolas looked at Bay intensely.  "He could take the animal out there."  Instantly the little meowing feline was shoved into the Elf's hands.  Legolas gave Carnahan a look, absently petting the soft, fuzzy head.  The kitten clawed at his fingers playfully.  Aragorn was baffled and made it apparent with his expression, causing his friend to smile.  "It seems this Imhotep has an aversion to kittens."  The Ranger nodded briefly and decided not to pursue it.

"So, what is that you believe he will do if you take this little beast out there?" he asked, running his hand over the kitten's head.  It pinned its ears, growled and leapt at the Ranger's fingers.  "Feisty little one.  Perhaps it wishes to face the dark one alone."

Legolas grinned and shoved the animal into his hands.  "Take it out, mellon nin, and threaten him with it.  I will take to a window in the room adjoining this one and when you have him distracted, I will leap out and claim Evelyn since I am the faster.  I can fight off the villagers without killing them."

Abdul-Medjid inhaled sharply, looking at the terrible face of their enemy.  "This is a great risk, but I see little choice.  We cannot give him the American."

Motioning towards the back of the building and giving Bay a set of keys, Dr. Bey said, "Take him around back.  I have my car parked out there."  The younger Med-Jai nodded and headed to do just that, and the curator turned to the strangers.  "They will wait for as long as they possibly can, but I will make no promises.  It is imperative that Mr. Henderson survive this."

Henderson grunted, keeping to the shadows.  "Appreciate the concern."

Immediately the curator's expression became cold as he looked at the American, who stood polishing his fingernails against his shirt.  "Believe me, Mr. Henderson, if it did not mean the security of our very existence I would have little trouble handing you over to him for your carelessness in opening that box!  You and your treasure hunting, cretin friends have caused a great deal of trouble."

The American made a cynical little face at that, pushing himself off the wall to join Bay.  "Wouldn't have made a difference if the girl hadn't read from the book."  He blanched when Aragorn, Legolas and Jonathan offered him unappreciative expressions.  "Sorry."

"Well, I should say none of this would have happened had you been honest with us from the beginning, old boy," Jonathan mused to Dr. Bey, who glared daggers in return.

Legolas shook his head.  "All this is getting us nowhere.  We will hurry as best we can, but do as you must concerning Henderson."  He looked to Aragorn and they exchanged ready looks.

The Ranger clapped a hand over his friend's shoulder.  "Whatever happens to me, see that she is saved, Legolas."  He looked into the Elf's eyes most seriously, relieved when Legolas shared the gravity and agreed with a mere nod.

Stepping away from the window, Aragorn looked down at the little ball of gray fur.  It stared up into his face with wide, golden eyes.  "Do not worry, little friend.  No harm will come to you," he said softly, opening the door.  The crowd outside shifted uneasily at his approach.  Imhotep watched him with irritated interest that turned very dark and angry when his eyes fell upon the kitten.  His lips formed a scowl, his cheek muscles shifting and chipping away at his dead skin.  Tightening his fists with a smoldering glare, he spoke harshly in his unfamiliar tongue.

Aragorn looked to Evelyn, seeing that she appeared unharmed for the most part.  She had gotten to her feet and backed against the museum, trying to keep away from the mindless victims around her.  Her brow was knit.  "Is that…is that a cat?"

The Ranger nodded, taking a step away from her to draw Imhotep's attention away from that side.  Carefully, he said, "Yes, it is a cat."  He held it up more visibly, watching the priest and waiting for an attack.

Imhotep snapped something angrily, his fists clenching and unclenching in indecision as he looked from Aragorn to the kitten.  It had turned around in his hands and was now watching Imhotep in measurably as much distaste as it was being regarded.  The little kitten hissed and the Ranger felt claws extend into his fingers.  "He wants to know what you want," Evelyn translated, then spoke something to the creature in his own language.  "I told him I would translate."

"Tell him I want you to be turned over to me safely," Aragorn replied, never daring to take his eyes away from the creature, that same look shared by his enemy.

Evelyn spoke to Imhotep, whose brows narrowed and lips spread into a smile.  Not sounding as though she cared to speak it, she said, "He said you're welcome to try and take me.  The cat will not help you now."

At her finish, Imhotep snapped something else and suddenly the servants around him began to move towards Aragorn.  He was not entirely certain if Legolas had taken this into account.  Backing towards the museum door, Aragorn darted a glance at the window that the Elf had opened and was now climbing down.  Imhotep turned his head rapidly, seeing the same thing.  His eyes wide, the Ranger yelled, "Legolas, now!"

That spurred the Prince of Mirkwood out of stealth and into action.  He leapt from the window's edge and hit the sand, wasting no time in drawing his sword and grabbing Evelyn's arm, pulling her up.  Aragorn could spare only a moment to watch over his friends as Legolas began fighting his way through the crowd, drawing as little blood as possible, before having to retreat back into the museum because of the nearness of Imhotep's thralls.  Once inside, he shut the door and turned the lock, then raced towards the room Legolas had leapt from to see if he could aid a helping hand.  The kitten was placed down into an open sarcophagus in the adjoining hallway.

By the time Aragorn reached the window, Legolas had gone away from it.  He looked out as the raging mob headed towards a direction he could only assume his friend had taken, then snapped his attention back towards the priest.  Imhotep spared him a look that needed no translation.  He would be coming after Aragorn when the time was right.  But now was not that time.  He turned away and followed the procession after Legolas.

He had to warn the Med-Jai which direction Imhotep was taking.  Aragorn turned from the window and raced through the halls towards the back of the building where they had exited.

~~~~~~~

Once they had broken free of the overthrown crowd, Legolas had wasted no time in urging Evelyn, her hand clasped in his, into a full sprint away.  She was having trouble keeping up with his superior pace, but even still it seemed the villagers took no more effort than a shuffling walk, as if they knew that time would offer the bounty they had been sent to claim whether or not they ran.  Still, they took scant chances.  Legolas held fast to her hand, not allowing her to slow up just yet.

Around them lay the evidence of shattered homes and buildings that had no one to repair them.  They came to an alley where several more thralls emerged, eyes dead and repeating the name of Imhotep over and over, as if it brought strength or reminded them of the task at hand.  He knew not which, but saw now why they did no more than walk.  If Imhotep had taken the whole city and could speak to them without being within earshot, they were indeed in very much trouble.

Evelyn gave a cry when they rounded a corner right into a group of them.  Many sets of hands reached out towards them, grasping at their arms and hair, whatever they could reach.  Legolas kicked one, knocking it into the others and pulled Evy away.  "This does not bode well," he muttered, darting glances down the street, looking for any viable pathway out of the danger.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him urgently and to that he shook his head, questioning that himself.

At an intersection, Legolas stopped and looked behind them.  "Do you have one of these automobiles?"

She shook her head.  "Not anymore.  Jonathan lost it in a card game.  We could try for Fort Brydon.  He can't have turned the entire country into these mindless beasts."

"Then take us there.  Though it grieves me to leave our company behind, I fear we can do them no service now."  The Elf looked into her face, seeing the sorrow he felt mirrored there.  Compelled, he touched her shoulder softly.  "Your curator had a transport.  I am certain Jonathan and Aragorn will make it."

She smiled wanly, but there was no time to spare.  The servants of the priest were closing in upon them.  Legolas took her hand once more and pulled her away from the certain destruction heading their way.  He took her directions to Fort Brydon as she gave them, but more and more they had to duck certain streets and paths due to the mindless thralls.   And soon there was a distinctive change in the gravity of their worries.  It came as a crack from a whip, a terrible cry into the winds.  "Nefertiri!"

Chilled, they stopped and turned.  Imhotep approached, his eyes hungry with anticipation.  They could see death within those intense eyes.  "We're in serious trouble," Evy moaned as Legolas urged her to take up flight again.

The Elf made no comment.  While he agreed, he would not let hope slip away.  He had not been defeated by the enemies of goodness yet, nor would he be today.

Suddenly there was a car before them, directly in their path.  A door opened and the grave face of a Med-Jai peered out.  "Get in!" he ordered in severe tones.

Legolas pushed Evelyn towards the car, then turned to watch her back.  She was quick to get within the safety of the vehicle and he followed seconds later.  Evelyn was forced onto the lap of her brother while Legolas crouched on the floor in the cramped back seat.  The car jerked forward, sending him forward.  He braced against her lap, looking up into her anxious face.  "Aragorn?" he asked, watching her eyes.

She looked into the front seat, then at the faces of the Med-Jai in the backseat.  When her gaze came back down, it was more worried.  "He's not here."

From the front seat, passenger side, Abdul-Medjid turned back to face them.  "We waited for as long as we could, but he did not come.  My cousin was also left behind and a few of my men.  They will aid him if he finds them, I promise you that."

Unable to see into the front, the Prince of Mirkwood turned his mind to other matters, their immediate concern.  "Where is Henderson?"

"Right here," the American replied, seated in the driver's seat.

The car rocked with a sudden wind and Evy grabbed onto Jonathan for support.  "You had better step on it, Mr. Henderson," she advised.  "He's not far behind us."

Henderson cursed, then made a sharp turn.  Legolas found he did not care for this mode of escape just now.  It troubled him to be cut off from seeing what was going on around him.  The Med-Jai kept an eye on all the windows from what he could see, echoing his desire.  He would merely have to trust.

Trust did not matter, though.  Not anymore.  He first catalogued a sudden jerking sensation, before his eyes closed.  Or maybe they hadn't, he could not say.  It all happened so fast that the vision of crashing did not stay with him.  But the sound did.  That he registered fully, unable to block out the sounds even if he had wanted to.  It was loud and jarring.

At first he did not know what had happened, those first few seconds after the car had come to a dead halt.  Then it occurred to him that there was no sensation of movement.  Legolas looked first to Evelyn and saw her face pale white, eyes widened and hands tightened into fists.  Then he looked at the other side of the car.  There was blood there.  Beyond a shattered window were bricks and mortar, and the unmoving form of an unfortunate warrior that had slammed up against the hard wall.  It was then the Elf felt the warmth on his face and hands.  He looked down at saw the liquid of life spattered on his flesh and clothes.  At that point sound seemed to disappear, covered by vision.  He looked up again at Evelyn, seeing then what he had failed to see.  Blood on one side of her body.  She took a trembling hand and wrapped it around the fabric of her brother's pants, shaking him.  Sound rushed back into notice painfully.  "Jonathan?"

"I'm okay, Old Mum.  You?" Carnahan replied in a quiet, calm tone.

She didn't have time to reply.  A groan from the front seat drew their attention there.  "Mr. Bay," Evelyn said softly, her eyes locked forward.  Legolas wondered what it was she saw.  They were jarred again, this time by the cause rather than the effect.  Up front Henderson's side window burst and a hand curved in, wrapping along the doorway.  It was ripped off the car entirely and Henderson was yanked out.  "He's dragging him away."  Legolas knew who she meant.

Abdul-Medjid Bay groaned again and Legolas reached for the handle to his door, prepared to face death and use all his wisdom and power to defeat it.  When he collapsed from the vehicle and recovered his footing, he saw that Imhotep was nowhere to be seen; had left no trail to be hunted.  The car was bent around the corner of a building, metal twisted and formed into an instrument of death rather than escape.  Legolas pushed his hair back and not knowing what else to do, entered the front seat to see to Bay.  The wounds the Med-Jai had were grave.

He looked up through pained, hazy eyes and weakly grasped at the Elf's shirt.  "Stop him," he whispered, swallowing with terrible effort.  "The world is…is in trouble."

Legolas nodded quickly, covering the hand holding his shirt.  "I swear it."

Bay smiled and let go.  He said one final thing, then perished before the Elf's eyes.  "Sorry."

A sudden despair filled him.  He grieved this stranger that he had not seen his son before passing on and he grieved this city.  And most of all he grieved the bitterness these mortals endured.  Legolas now missed home more than ever.  He had seen death, raw and terrible, but never without the comfort of knowing his home could offer solace.  He did not have that here and the prospect of living here forever, of never seeing the shores of Aman and of living on for ages, watching these mortals die…it frightened him.  He looked at the dead face before him through sorrowful eyes, murmuring, "I tremaethar.  Rado sîdh athan sí." 

~~~~~~~

**Author**:  _Ruse_ – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com  
**Disclaimer**:  No infringement intended.  Naseen and Salih are mine.  
**Feedback**:  _Yes_!  By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!  
**Archive**:  Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your Fiction, LOTR Sims Cartoons, Wallpapers and More. :O  Sorry the thanks got cut off last posting.

Elvish:

**Aragorn, tolo!  Goston amarth anglenna!** – Aragorn, come!  I fear doom is approaching!

**I tremaethar.  Rado sîdh athan sí.** – The fight is through.  Find peace beyond here.

Reviewers:

**Curlly** – Thanks for the email!  I appreciate it and hope you continue to enjoy reading! :-)

**Lulu Bell** – Thanks!  I'm glad you're liking…yes, poor Ardeth.  I can't fight the urge to put him in mortal danger.  ;-)

**Angelguide** – Ardeth's been dragged off to be a meal! ;-)  Thanks! :-)

**Loki** – Thanks!  I appreciate that you'd just say hey, even if you had something else to say.  It's nice to see numbers, cause when no one reviews you think no one is reading.  :-D  Glad you're liking.

**Terreis**  - Whoops…sorry for leaving the cliffhangers all over the place. ;-)  I can't help it.  And sorry for taking long between updates! *sob*  I'll try to do better!  :-D  Thanks for reading when I do update. ;-)  Hope you continue to like!

**Karri** – Yeppers, they have an Elf!  Always a good good thing. ;-)  Even if Haldir can be snooty.  ;-)  Thank you for the compliments!

**Deana** – Yeah…poor Hal, having to leave a member behind.  He's a good guy. :-D  I wuv him!  Anyway, Legolas is up to trouble, as you can see!  Next chapter Imhotep might just kill him! ;-)  Well…

**Sirithiliel** – Hehehe..yes, sending Ardeth and Leggy to impossible situations, poor buggers.  I love them….therefore they must struggle.  :-D  Thanks for the review!  Whether I kill them or not…jury is still out on that. ;-)  Thanks!

**Marcher** – Hehe…thanks!  Glad you appreciated the Hobbit humor…I had fun thinking it up. :-D  Sorry about the cliffhangers…*gulp*  I can't help it! ;-)  Anyway, thanks for the review…hope to be reviewing yours soon. ;-)


	17. Hot Water

**Bloodlines**   
Hot Water

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined. 

~~~~~~~ 

He sat within the dirt on the shore, his bare feet tickled once in a while by uprising waters that lapped at the grounds. Rick wondered also if the Hobbit's pants might be getting a decent bath, given the flow of water. From the camp he glanced over the fire they had built, thinking about Frodo and his quest. Such a task for so innocent a being. It occurred to him once more that this was a task more suitable for Men and these long-haired, grace filled Elves. Even Gimli was a force to be reckoned with, yet Hobbits nearly equaled in number to the more capable warriors. Rick had survived Hamunaptra, that alone was testimony to his skill. He could do this. But it wasn't his task. 

"I see where you look," a voice inserted itself within his consciousness. Rick shook himself from his musings and met the gaze of the only other member of their party not attempting sleep. Boromir's brows were knit as if something troubled his thoughts. He too glanced to Frodo by the water, then back into the flames, leaning over his lap with arms crossed. "The quest wears upon him day by day. How so much can be expected of him by these Elves, I cannot fathom." 

Rick inhaled at the agitated tone the other used. The sentiments mirrored his, but of course this warrior so like Ardeth had more personal reasons to worry. Taking a stick, the ex-Legionnaire swiped at the shifting flames a few times. "You think Frodo shouldn't be doing this," he surmised. 

The Captain of Gondor shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I give him full credit for bravery. He is a true testament to courage. Yet his place is not upon the battlefield." The fire danced within his hazel stare, glinting as he moved his eyes to Rick's. "I fear this quest may come to ruin if we continue on this course." 

Lifting the now burning stick before him, Rick shrugged, watching the flames eat the wood. "He's got us," he said without certain conviction. 

"That is true." Boromir inhaled deeply and a moment of silence came between them. Sam stirred on his bedroll that had been placed with that of his master's a little bit away from camp. The Lord of Gondor watched him settle, then lowered his voice. "He may die trying to get to Mordor. We may die as well. He should be back home, leaving us to this terrible deed. And what of the power we are letting slip through our grasp?" 

Rick's gaze was mild. "Gandalf said none of us should use the Ring." 

The eyes of the other man were intensely questioning the validity of that statement. He seemed almost uncertain of his own judgment, though there was a deep want locked within his countenance. "Using the Ring cannot be any worse than allowing Sauron to take it back. When we cross into Mordor all of us could fail, but his chances are even less than a warrior like you or myself." 

Ahead Frodo shifted in his place. The Hobbit got to his feet and began walking, causing Rick to wonder if he had heard. He didn't turn or look at them as if he had, merely skirted the waters slowly. Maybe Frodo was thinking the same thing. Rick knew _he_ would be. "What do you think we should do?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the subject of their conversation. Rick dropped the stick, whose flame had traveled low enough by now to singe his fingers. 

Boromir watched him drop it into the fire. "I will heed this wisdom, for as long as I see it as such. But if the quest comes to failure I think you know what we should do." He looked up just as Rick did. "Do not let the Elf command us, Rick. He has a wisdom all his own and we dare not trust him to share the values of our kind, even if their leaders seem friendly. So says my father." 

Leaning back on his hands, the ex-Legionnaire nodded. The cool air of night caused him to inhale deeply, filling him with a refreshed sensation that was all too fleeting. The Elves were a strange lot, that was certain. It did bother him to think of mistrusting Arwen or even Galadriel, but pretty faces had hoodwinked him before. The Elves were a powerful people and without having to be instructed in this world Rick surmised they had their own secrets and agendas. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Haldir. He was quiet and aloof. 

At the side of camp a sudden, deep intake of air roused their curiousity. Sitting up and looking at the fire through half-lidded eyes, Sam yawned. "Where's Mr. Frodo gone to?" he murmured, scratching his arm. 

Rick looked up, seeing the small shadow some ways away down shore. He pointed. "That way. Walking." 

His attention snared quite completely, Sam got up and trailed off, muttering, "Gone off, has he? Not without me, he won't." 

Boromir shared a smile with Rick, who was fighting off a reply to Sam's yawn. It didn't work and he found himself trapped by his own exhaustion. "I think if anything Sam could fight and beat the Dark Lord before letting anything happen to his friend. Mordor, beware." 

"Indeed," Boromir agreed, looking at his bedroll speculatively. 

It seemed a fair thought, but it died out quickly. All thoughts of sleep fled Rick's mind when he heard a crashing from the forest. The sound alarmed he and Boromir both and they turned, hands on weapons. A flutter of silvery-gold tipped them off when Haldir bounded from the shadows. He had the remnants of leaves in his mussed hair and dirt smudged across his armor. His expression was serious. "We have been sighted by Orcs! We must flee at once!" 

The ex-Legionnaire drew his dagger, looking beyond the Marchwarden into the forest. "Ardeth?" he questioned, getting to his feet. 

The Elf shook his head. "Captured. We must get Frodo to the eastern shore. All else is second."

Rick wasn't ready for that. The conversation he and Boromir had just had flitted through his thoughts rapidly and he took a step towards the woods. "You go, I'll save Ardeth."

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Haldir fixed him with a stern gaze. "Believe me, he is lost to us."

"You might not care, damn it, but I do!" Rick hissed in reply. He could feel his adrenaline rushing, filling him with the urgent need to fight. He couldn't leave Ardeth behind. He barely knew him, but couldn't leave him.

"I did what I could to save him," the Elf said low, softening his look, but none of the gravity disappeared. Rick tore his eyes away from the woods, listening as Boromir roused the sleeping Hobbits. "They were too many. Now the question comes to asking what it is you will do with that knowledge. Will you trust me when I say that though it troubles me, it is a lost cause? Or will you abandon your oath to Frodo and this world that is now yours?"

The ex-Legionnaire glared hard at the Marchwarden, who remained unimpressed, then looked to the woods. He could hear it now, shouting that closed in on their position. Shoving his dagger into its sheath, Rick swore and kicked the sand, then whipped around towards the boats. The Lord of Gondor already had the Ringbearer and Sam on a boat bound for the eastern shore. He was motioning the other two Hobbits along when the first of the Orcs burst through the trees, bounding with no intention of giving them any chance to escape.

There was no time to plan, nor time for Rick to use his gun—not that he was under any illusions that bullets would do anything except annoy the large Orcs heading his way. He held the blade in his hand steady, training his eyes upon those of one marking him as its target. Haldir already had his bow drawn, aiming and downing one, then another. It was happening too quickly. "Boromir!" he shouted, stumbling back as his foe struck down hard, hitting the dagger in his hands with a much larger blade. It hurt his hand, but O'Connell kept a firm grip on the dagger. Wincing, Rick muttered, "This is bad," and frowned into the grin that brought his enemy.

"You're right," it rasped, cocking its head and staring down with gleaming eyes. "This is bad. It's gonna get a lot worse."

"Run!" Rick heard Boromir shout, but he had no way of seeing who the Lord of Gondor was talking to and certainly no chance to run himself. The Orc jerked his long blade back and took a hard swing, then kicked the ex-Legionnaire in the side.

Groaning, Rick doubled over, but his eyes were on his enemy. Thinking it had the advantage the Orc raised his blade high and O'Connell took the advantage, driving his dagger into the creature's abdomen, then jerking it as far right as he could manage through such tough hide. It yelled out in pain, then fell to its knees. The ex-Legionnaire grunted and stood up, kicking the Orc's head. Two more began to advance towards him and Rick had the distinct impression this wasn't going to turn out very good. 

~~~~~~~ 

He awoke with an absolutely mind killing headache. Before he could stop to consider his surroundings Ardeth let out a small groan and rolled from his back to his side. The dirt and grass beneath him was cool feeling, a soft comfort to his aching body. Then he remembered just why he was laying upon dirt and not sand. Cruel chatter filtered into his hearing as his senses slowly opened up to the world around him. They were terrible voices contrived of terrible existence, snarls and guttural words cutting the air in some dark conversation. 

Ardeth forced his eyes to open and for a moment all was blurred by the pain-causing act. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since his capture, but the vivid shade of dark purple painting the sky gave him a pretty good idea that at least the night had not passed away into morning yet. He inhaled a breath and forced himself to turn his head, then he stopped moving altogether. In the near distance he saw them, the looming figures of his evil captors. They were frightening in appearance, almost like some defiled beast created from many parts and built into some perverted likeness of mankind.

One of the smaller ones was bent over something on the ground, his face twisted in disdain. "Curse Elvish weapons," he muttered darkly.

A large beast sitting upon a log crossed his arms, watching his companion. He grunted. "We ain't leaving it there. Get it up."

The shorter snarled something angry, but the bigger was hardly impressed. Cracking his neck, he spat, "Why don't you pick it up?"

Pointing his finger, the larger of the two hissed, "Why not let the human pick it up, and let him gut you like a pig?"

Ardeth lay back, more than willing to agree with that advice. So they had not killed him yet. The Med-Jai stared at the canopy of trees above, weighing his options. He could see only four of these hideous beings, but that did not mean there weren't more. The Orc hovering over his sword would undoubtedly pick it up before he had the hope, should he decide to bolt for the weapon. He could chance the woods. He was weak and in pain, but if these beings were only a match for human speed he thought he had at least half a chance of making it far enough away to hide or find help.

He glanced towards the crude campsite again, cataloguing their interest in him. Oddly enough, they did not seem overly concerned. The very fact he had not been bound seemed very suspicious to him. Were they stupid or confident? Watching the shorter Orc grip the sword, then drop it and go for the larger that was now laughing, he wondered if perhaps he had been blessed with foolish captors.

But it was too late. The chance was lost when he saw two glittering blue eyes, pale and strikingly sinister watching him. "Quiet, you fools!" he spat, rubbing his fingers together reflexively, as if hungry. "Our guest is awake."

Ardeth lay very still, pretending he had no strength. He said nothing and waited for them to make another move. One of the deep, guttural voices of the Uruk-Kai barked, "Why don't we have a little dinner?"

He heard a hiss and tensed, debating on whether or not he should run or stand and fight. Footsteps shuffling in the dirt set him on edge. He waited in silence until he saw a dark face enter his field of vision. "This ain't one of the fair colored Men of the West." The Orc blinked in puzzlement, studying him.

The Uruk was not as impressed by that minor detail. "What's that got to do with anything? I'm hungry."

The Orc sneered at his companion, put kept his eyes on Ardeth. "If he's one of Sauron's, it won't serve us to kill him just yet. Particularly with so many questions." Those startling blue eyes glinted as they washed over the Med-Jai. "What you doing with an Elf weapon, Easterling?"

Ardeth scooted away instinctively, pausing when he saw the Orc's restless fidgeting increase. "I stole it," he answered automatically. It would be a dangerous game he played if indeed he could think fast enough on his feet to play it without getting killed.

"Stole it, did you? That why you were fighting with that dirty Elf back there?" growled the Uruk-Kai.

He looked across the way into two very hungry, very contemptuous eyes. The Uruk was fingering a dark blade. "I gained his trust. I was looking for information and tricked a few of the Westerners into helping me search for it."

"Yeah?" the Uruk asked in a mocking tone. "What sort of information?"

He did not have an immediate answer and the hulking monster knew it. His brows narrowed dangerously and Ardeth fumbled with his sparse knowledge. "They have a weapon…" he floundered, trying not to betray too much. He licked his lips and sat up with a hard frown. They were interested now, likely having been keeping an eye out for the Ring themselves. "But that is none of your concern. I report to no one but my superiors."

The large Orc nodded, looking no less distrustful and yet he said nothing of his suspicions. A terrible smile spread across his lips. "We are your superiors, in every way that counts. This changes nothing. We go to Isengard. I say the Dark Lord won't miss his soldier."

The Orc shook his head in annoyance, twisting his hands around the hilt of his dagger. He seemed almost willing to agree to that, for those eyes were like as a man's who had not eaten in weeks. But fear of the Dark Lord prevailed. "We ain't killing this one without getting to the bottom of this. If he's got information…"

"Bah!" the Uruk boomed, but did not stir from his place. "He's lying."

"But if…" the Orc insisted, not moving his gaze from the Med-Jai.

The large leader drew in a moist breath. "Yeah, shut your hole. We'll take him Saruman just so I can have the pleasure of running you through when he says you're wrong." He fixed his glare on Ardeth then. "You know which of the halflings carries this weapon?"

The question made Ardeth pause. They knew it was one of the Hobbits that carried the Ring, but not which. He wondered what else they knew, what else they could bait him with. Yet if it came between his life and those of the four little ones, he would not reveal any more than he had. "I do not know which, but they do carry it."

"Of course," he hissed, having expected as much. "And I suppose you have no idea where they might be headed?"

Ardeth was at a loss, knowing precious little of Middle-earth's geography. He played the game hard, but feared his end would come with this beast's impatience. He knew the Uruk would believe nothing he said. Still, to decline to answer would be to show weakness. If he were to have any chance at all he would have to remain alive and pray for the right moment. "They were debating themselves," he answered truthfully, recalling several suggestions made along the way. "The Dwarf wants his people to have it. The Elf wishes to hide it in the sea. The Men would have it taken to their own kind. I think they were heading towards one of the Western kingdoms."

His look suggested he knew the Med-Jai had won this round, but he would not be giving up anytime soon. The Uruk was bent on catching him in a lie and would prove to be the greatest threat along the way."

A skin was tossed at him. Ardeth looked down at it apprehensively, then reached for it, conscious of eyes on him. Opening it, he sniffed the drink and then took a swallow. He knew nothing of how he was expected to react, but it made no difference. He could not have pretended to like it if he had thought to before erupting into hard, hacking coughs. The black beasts of Sauron laughed at his struggle with the vile liquor. It threatened to choke him, but just as he thought he would pass out from the strain, the Med-Jai caught his breath. Glancing up at his Uruk-Kai enemy, he saw a dark grin.

But what would have been a visual battle of wills was dashed by distraction. Footsteps tramped through the woods, announcing the return of a body of Orcs. One single voice rang out among the crowd of swearing and snarling. "Let me go!" It was light and filled with fear. "You're hurting me!"

His heart sinking, Ardeth hardened his exterior and followed the trail of gazes towards the woods where a large Uruk-Kai exited, shoving a small form forward. When Pippin saw the Med-Jai, his eyes lit up and Ardeth frowned, but he knew he could not shake his head. The Hobbit missed the warning. "Ardeth? You're alive?" He was visibly relieved.

Biting his tongue, the Med-Jai glanced at the Uruk and thought, Not for long. The large Orc narrowed his eyes.

~~~~~~~ 

**Author**: Ruse – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com   
**Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.   
**Feedback**: Yes! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!   
**Archive**: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site. 

**A/N**: I'm alive! And continuing with the story, no less. I hope I still have an audience after forever. :O

NOTE: I reuploaded last chapter, so the end isn't wonky like ff.net made it appear, without the Elvish translations and so on.

**Reviewers**:

**Encaitare** – Thanks for reading and for having the care to review as much as you did. :) I'm so pleased you liked this so well! I know, the Legolas/Gimli friendship is missed. *sigh* I should have sent Gimli to Egypt too…that would have been funny, counting off mummies as they dropped. ;) Thank you also for reading and reviewing Mine to Cherish. I love Boromir and hate when people paint him as some big evil guy. ;) And yes, invading Elrond's rooms would be most fun. ;) Thanks. :)

**Soul** – Sorry! I know, I've been a bad writer. But I came back! *sob* ;) And looking forward to continuing on. Thank you muchly for reviewing!

**Anna** – Thanks for your reviews…as I answered your questions via email, if I remember right…and Encaitare also has answered some, I won't get into those, but I'm pleased you liked what you read. :) Thanks for your reviews…hope you return for more reading. :) Thanks for compliments on my characterization, I can but hope I get them right when I set out to write them. :)

**Marcher** – Thanks, my friend. Yes, I'm ever fond of exchanging characters and creating havoc. ;) Muahahaha. Glad you enjoyed so far. :D

**Terreis** – Aaw, sorry about Ardeth's dad. *wince* I'm ever one for creating havoc, as I said. ;) Sorry I took forever to update. :O

**Dead-Girls-Watch** – Thanks! Glad you enjoyed. :) I need to see if you've written anything of late…I'm so behind with everyone. :O

**Sirithiliel** – Thanks! I haven't decided where Aragorn is yet. ;) Nasty habit of mine, writing without a plan. Hope you enjoy!

**Mommints** – Lol..hungover. ;) Thanks for reading! I haven't decided if Aragorn reeeaally likes Evy or not. ;) Or for that matter, if Evy likes him or Legolas. :X Thanks for reading, my friend. Nice website!

**Lulu Bell** – Thanks! Sorry this chapter took even longer. ;) I promise I won't take months on the next one if everyone still wants to read more. :O *sob*

**Karri** – Thanks…I've got this fascination with bathroom scenes it seems, having written one into my Matrix story as well. :X ;) Bleh. Thanks for reading and for the review, my friend. :)

**Starlight Kisses** – I'm considering Evy/Legolas…haven't made up my mind. ;) *sigh* It's too hard! I love both he and Aragorn. :O Thanks!

**Deana** – Hehehe…thanks for asking me repeatedly to get off my duff. ;) I've been so bad about my stories. *sob* Thanks for the review, my friend. Means a bunch! As for Legolas trouble…hmm. I'll have to ponder that. ;)


	18. Namarie

**Bloodlines**  
Namarie (Farewell)

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

* * *

He was bothered by the Med-Jai's death. Legolas did not display it openly, but she had seen the look on his face when Abdul-Medjid passed away. Truth be told, she was bothered herself. Tired now and shaken, Evelyn pulled herself out of the vehicle and rubbed her face as she straightened. She could still hear chanting in the distance, Imhotep's name echoing throughout Cairo. They could not afford to sit here waiting for death. Legolas knew it as well, exiting the vehicle. His keen eyes swept their surroundings before resting on her. Neither spoke, but both could see the unease in the other.

Cursing, Jonathan yanked himself out as well and peered back inside at the one Med-Jai that had managed to live through the crash. "He's wounded badly," he announced in a dejected tone as he stood again. Jonathan kicked the ground. "What now?"

Legolas turned towards the sound of motion nearing. "They are after Evelyn and I. We must travel quickly."

Her brother nodded, catching on. "You want me to help him off somewhere. Right. I can do that. I'm sure we're not anything that walking terror would care to take time on anyway." He smoothed his hair back and looked Evy over. "Be careful, Old Mum?"

Impulsively, Evy stepped forward and hugged him. Maybe it was the close brush with death or maybe it was the impending doom, but she was suddenly very grateful to be able to do such a simple thing. He felt it too, wrapping his arms around her. "You be careful too."

Jonathan nodded and when they pulled away, he fixed Legolas with a serious look. "Take care of my sister, okay? I wouldn't want to have to send the kitten after you."

The Elf grinned. "She will endure until my last breath. Evelyn, we should get moving now." He held out his hand for her to take and grasped hers firmly once she did. "Namarie, Jonathan."

"Oh no, you're absolutely right about that," he countered very seriously. "Marie's testy and rude. Better to stick with Gina. She's a good girl." He smiled and turned back towards the vehicle.

Evy shot Legolas a look as they started away from the wreck. She arched her eyebrow thoughtfully. "What's this? He wouldn't be talking about that little diversion to the tavern the other night, would he? Corrupting your mind with his disgusting habits?"

He gave her hand a little squeeze, his face amused. "I am certain I know not of what he speaks. Namarie means farewell." Then his expression became serious. "Evelyn, the dangers we face are great. Should something happen to me I want you to run."

"But…"

Legolas shook his head. "You must promise me. I swore to Aragorn I would see you safe and even had I not, that remains my concern. You have been gracious to us and are a fine lady. I have won myself out of dire trouble before, so if I am overcome and you must flee, fear not that you will never see me again. Only find yourself a safe haven where the evil creature cannot get you. Will you promise?"

Haltingly, she replied, "I'll…try."

It was good enough for now. They came onto a main avenue and there met up with their doom. The servants of Imhotep approached them on nearly all sides. Legolas stopped and darted his vision around, seeking a way they could escape. Evy bit her bottom lip. "This doesn't look very good. Do you think they can sense us? If we were to take cover in a building?"

He shook his head. "I cannot say, except that their hunt is very keen." The Elf nodded towards an uninhabited alleyway. "Come."

Together they ran towards the shadowy path and darted down it. Night was fast falling upon the city, giving the atmosphere an ominous feel to it. Evy began to doubt they would find any help even at Fort Brydon. She could still hear the sounds of being followed, the ever-present name on the air. They would be lucky to make it out of Cairo itself, but she wouldn't do that if it meant leaving the others behind.

They made it to the end of the alleyway, gazes sharp, looking for the deadly thralls of the dark priest. Three that had been standing still, staring off, took immediate notice of their arrival. Legolas frowned, pulling her along with him towards another street.

When they turned the corner they saw their path blocked by slaves. Elf and woman skidded to a halt, then turned to flee back in the other direction, but it was too late. The hypnotized citizens were beginning to surround them. Looking on the hopeless scene with wide eyes, Evelyn whispered, "Oh dear."

Legolas darted his eyes around, seeking any way of escape. There were none. The shuffling, zombie-like thralls backed them into a building, hands outstretched and eyes dead. "Imhotep," they chanted hungrily, eager to serve. Evy cried out as one grasped her hair.

Drawing his sword, Legolas struck out against the one that touched her, but knew all was lost. There was no escape and far too many had converged upon them. His fist tightened against the hilt of his sword in a testament to his frustration. He could see no way of out of this, not for him, nor for her. He instinctively put himself before Evy and backed her against the wall, knowing it would not be long before he was torn down. He struck at another of the thralls and another, but where one was taken down another took its place.

Numerous hands were on him before long, dragging him away from her, filling his ears with the sound of the fell priest's name, until a shout halted all movement. The alien tongue identified the speaker easily enough and as Legolas straightened he saw a path being made leading from the city to where he and Evy stood. A black robed figure approached with smoldering eyes that seemed to swallow him whole. There was no good in this being.

Before Legolas he stopped, looking behind to view Evelyn, then his eyes fell upon the Elf once more. He spoke, reaching a hand out to grasp his hair. Legolas jerked his head away, glaring openly. "He calls you 'ancient one'," Evy supplied, laying a hand on his shoulder. "He says the dead whisper of you."

Imhotep grinned, sliding his eyes between them as she translated, then tilted his chin up in satisfaction. Legolas recognized what was going to happen, the intent written in those hungry black eyes. He lifted his hand to deflect the blow, but it was immensely too powerful. The force knocked him to the ground and would have taken his consciousness had he not had the presense of mind to lift his arm.

Legolas looked up, gripping his sword, but stopped when Imhotep took Evy by the throat and dragged her nearer. He spoke harshly to her and she translated grudgingly. "He says to go ahead and fight. Um, I do believe he's being sarcastic, by the way." She whimpered lightly when the dark being squeezed.

The priest looked down on the Elf with merciless eyes before kicking him down to the sand again. Legolas gripped the gritty material in his fist, not knowing what to do. He had a split second choice to make, one that could endanger Evy if he underestimated Imhotep's grasp on her. Tilting his head, he glanced at the hand holding her throat. He had to chance it.

Racing to his feet, Legolas pushed her from Imhotep and inserted himself between the two of them, swords drawn and eyes glittering. Behind he heard her groan of pain that was a sign her neck had not been drastically injured in the wrenching from Imhotep's hand.

He did not retaliate right away, as Legolas had thought he might. The dread priest smiled as if he were dealing with a mere child who had gotten a lucky hit. "Legolas," Evy said, standing up and dusting herself off. She did not sound very hopeful. "He could kill you."

"Then you must run quickly," he replied, never taking his eyes off Imhotep's. Any moment now the fight would begin. He could see it in his foe's eyes.

Evy was resolute. "I'm not leaving you to die."

"Evelyn…"

"No!" She took his shoulder again and he knew if Imhotep chose that moment all would be lost. The priest looked poised to do so, but Evelyn's soft voice stopped him as she spoke the words of his tongue. Her fingers on his shoulder tightened as she tried to reason with the madness before them. When Imhotep smiled patiently, Legolas knew she had made a bargain. He glared as she said, "He'll let you live if I go with him."

Legolas shook his head. "Then I shall die."

Her hand left his shoulder. Evelyn came to stand beside him with knit brows and using a sharp tone, retorted, "Then you'll die and he'll take me anyway! Where do you think I can run to?" Her face softened. "He wants to take me to Hamunaptra. At least this way you have a chance of warning the others."

He let go of his watch on the priest for but a moment to look at her, to express his want that this not end this way. "Evy…" It was then Imhotep chose to make his move. The last thing he saw after a rapid, hard blow to his head was her dark, wide eyes as he fell.

A stirring at his hand did not seem enough to awaken the sleeping Elf. In vain had Aragorn searched the city for any sign of the Med-Jai, fighting much of his way here, well beyond the museum. The thralls of Imhotep had been intent on a goal, one that the Ranger followed after, but even still he had been met with opposition. For a time. Suddenly and without warning the fighting and following stopped, the thralls falling in their places to the sand, unconscious, leaving him ample passage through Cairo.

He had searched without ceasing until at last a familiar form came into view. Jogging to where Legolas lay, Aragorn made ready to awaken his friend, but stopped, seeing another little being here. A little ball of gray fur was sitting calmly at the Elf's left hand, licking his fingers with an occasional mewl. Kneeling at his friend's side, the Ranger ran his fingers through the cat's fur and said, "Take heart, little friend. Legolas endures." Putting his hand to his friend's shoulder, he gave a nudge and urged him to consciousness. "Legolas?"

His fingers twitched and the kitten stopped licking, gazing intently at its now prey. Hunkering down, it watched as Legolas wiggled them again, then pounced at just the right moment. Aragorn looked down just in time to see the furry animal nip at the Elf's flesh, having curled arms around the offending fingers. "Ai," Legolas groaned a little raggedly, drawing the Ranger's attention back where it was needed.

"Are you all right, mellon nin?" Aragorn asked in concern, looking into half-lidded, dark eyes that bore the weight of pain.

Despite that Legolas immediately tried to sit, groaning with the act. Shaking his head, Aragorn tried to get him to halt his motion, but the Elf was intent. "He has taken her," he breathed and the Ranger drew a breath. Legolas placed a hand to his temple, accepting his friend's aid with the other. His eyes were sorrowful.

They stood carefully and Aragorn sighed, looking at the Elf's pained expression. "What happened?" He looked for any sign of blood or bruising, seeing none. Still, Legolas appeared a little worse for wear.

Shaking his head, the Prince of Mirkwood looked out across the battered city, his eyes searching where those of a mere mortal could not. "We ran and came upon the Med-Jai. Their vehicle crashed into a building." His expression became grave as he looked again to Aragorn. "Abdul-Medjid Bay has fallen."

"That is terrible news," he replied, turning his gaze outward along the city. None of the people Imhotep had put under his spell were awakening. All they did seemed to turn to ash even as they set their hands to prevent the very things happening. Evelyn was now gone and in dreadful danger. But even as he accepted these things he knew they could not give up. Not while there was still a sliver of hope. He looked back, seeing Legolas standing with his eyes shut, and said, "We need to get your head looked at. Then I will return to Hamunaptra."

"I will be all right," the prince assured him, looking at their feet. He pointed and the Ranger looked down. The kitten was pawing at his boot curiously. "He'll not allow us to leave him behind, I believe."

Aragorn hummed thoughtfully as he knelt down and collected the kitten. "Is it that, or is it that you are taken with him yourself?"

Legolas looked down the road towards the museum absently. "It is Jonathan's beast." His eyes grew solemn. "We should inform the Med-Jai curator of his kinsman's fate."

They began the trek slowly, though every second away from the museum troubled Aragorn, for he knew these were moments that the dread priest used to get away. Hamunaptra was not far, but neither was it as close as he felt comfortable with. He knew nothing of what Imhotep would do once there, nor how long Evelyn would have before his plans carried her beyond their reach. "Did he do her any injury?" he asked, scratching behind the kitten's ears.

"Nay," Legolas exhaled softly and turned to Aragorn with an apology on his face. "I tried to protect her. We ran, but in the end he caught up to us. She would not leave me alone to fight him and before I could stop him he hit me. One blow and I was on the sand." The last phrase was not without a degree of self-rebuke.

The kitten meowed and rubbed against the Ranger's thumb, drawing his gaze. "He is a monster, Legolas," he said firmly. "There is little any of us can do against him. Ai, what I wouldn't give for the advice of Gandalf right now." They shared a wan smile between them, but he did not have to ask to see the wistful expression in his friend's eyes. He felt it too. Looking up across Cairo, he considered what they were doing. It seemed wherever they went there was always something to do, some trouble to overcome. He did not resent that, but instead began to think perhaps things were this way because they _could_ do these things where others could not. And perhaps that was how it was at home. He did not want to be king, but if he did not there was no one else. But what if he could never get home?

It wasn't long before they came upon the museum. A few windows were broken and the entrance left open, but it seemed otherwise intact. Together Man and Elf entered and stopped inside. There were a few Med-Jai waiting there and the curator, who stood as Jonathan tied off a bandage around his wrist. He tightened the string and Dr. Bey hissed, then slapped his hand away with a sour expression. The Englishman shook his head, then noticed them as he turned. "Well, I see you made it away and even brought back a few missing friends. Where's Evy?" When Legolas and Aragorn exchanged looks his mood became graver. "What's this?"

His friend would feel it was his place. Proving Aragorn's thought, the Elf stepped forward and exhaled a breath. "Jonathan, I am afraid I must tell you most distressing news. She has been taken. I could not protect her. I am sorry."

Jonathan's eyes widened. "Taken? By that…that fiend?"

Gravely, Legolas nodded. "He is taking her to Hamunaptra, my friend. We must make all haste there." The Elf looked to Dr. Bey with something else on his mind.

"At best the trip will take some few days. He travels much faster than that. By the time we arrive it will be too late," he responded to their thoughtful expressions. He did not miss the way Legolas looked at him. "If you have something to say…?"

Aragorn felt for his friend, who was not accustomed to being the bearer of so much grave news. Certainly not of this nature. Elves did not have to deal with death. "I lament having to say this, but your cousin has fallen. The automobile you gave to them crashed and he was injured beyond repair."

Bey's eyes widened a moment, then he exhaled and turned away. When Legolas tried to speak the curator waved him off. "We don't have the luxury for grief. Before you depart on this fools journey I have something I must confirm. If you will excuse me."

The curator left them without another word. The Prince of Mirkwood sighed and wandered back to Aragorn's side and the Ranger was suddenly struck with a thought. If they never got home Legolas would live for ages to come, always watching those around him fade away from him. He would have no one permanent in his life, no foundation, no one he could count on to be at his side through the many long years of his life. No end to his grief without the promise of sailing to the Undying Lands, save should he be slain and see the Halls of Mandos. Much of the promise of his life had been taken away with their coming here. He wanted to say something, but what could he possibly tell his friend to change the stark reality of it?

"So much peril at our heels," he said sorrowfully, looking out a broken window, then back again. "What can we do to save Evelyn?"

A thought seemed to occur to Jonathan, who snapped his fingers, then paced a little. He paused to pet the kitten and looked up. "I have an idea. I need to go out for a little bit."

The kitten in Aragorn's hands squirmed as the Englishman scratched his belly. "Where are you going?" the Ranger asked, knowing time was not on their side.

There was a light in Jonathan's eyes as he said, "Out for a drink."

"Now is not the time," Legolas began, shaking his head. He stopped when Evy's brother held up a hand.

"Trust me, my good son. I know what I'm doing." He yanked his hand back when the kitten nipped his finger. "I say, you little monster."

* * *

**Author**: _Ruse_ – **Disclaimer**: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.  
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Reviewers: Thank you to those that were once upon a time interested in this story. I dunno if anyone's still interested one tiny little bit, but I thought I'd upload this chapter since it was done. Enjoy!


	19. Fellowship Broken

**Bloodlines**  
Fellowship Broken

* * *

Rick blinked as he realized there was an unpleasant amount of sunshine raining down upon his sleeping face. There was an awful, terrible sound coming from his right, a sound so foul, so wretched he was tempted to draw his blade and end it then and there. If he still had it. He could feel his gun still in place. That gave him hope, at least. Rick opened one eye and rested it upon the blond Elf that was sharpening his own blade. Without even looking up from his work, knowing somehow that he was now awake, Haldir said, "I was hoping you would awaken before the sun set upon it's noonday position." Rick rolled his eyes and was tempted to turn his back on the Elf, except his curiosity was stronger. He sat up and Haldir looked at him, sheathing his sword. 

A quick look over showed him their numbers had decreased greatly. Where once there had been nine now sat he, Boromir, the Dwarf, a single Hobbit and the Elf. Of them all Merry looked the worst, not from physical injury, but something much worse. O'Connell took a breath to ask where his cousin was, then stopped himself and settled for, "What happened?"

Haldir threw a water skin at him and began kicking leaves over the long dead fire that had been made. "We five managed to make it out of the fray alive. It is Boromir to whom you owe thanks that you were spared a cruel fate. You were overpowered and he was near and so took up the battle for you." Rick threw a glance at Merry, still watching the Elf, wondering if he would take the hint. He did. "The Ringbearer and his companion are gone. It appears they did not see fit to wait when they reached the Eastern shore. We can but hope they were not captured and that this was the work of wisdom and not foolishness. The other small one was taken by the Orcs."

Taking his mouth from the skin, relishing the coolness of the water, Rick closed it and stood up to stretch. Fighting off a yawn, he looked between Haldir, Boromir and Gimli. "What now?"

"It is the wish of Boromir we tail the Ringbearer," the Elf said coolly, sliding his gaze briefly over the Captain of Gondor. "For Frodo and Sam's sake, I am certain."

Boromir glared back at the Elf in disdain. "Give your suspicions a rest, Elf. I am not the enemy you think me to be."

Haldir raised a graceful eyebrow. "Indeed?"

Shaking his head, Rick raised his hands. "Look, this mission is about Frodo, so why don't you two-"

"We have to save Pippin!" the remaining Hobbit burst, surprising the ex-Legionnaire. Those furrowed brows and the angry insistence made Rick wonder if there hadn't been a little argument while he was sleeping. "Haldir saw them from afar! Pippin _and_ your friend are still alive!"

O'Connell turned his head and shot the Elf a look, to which Haldir inclined his head. "It is true. I witnessed their passage not an hour ago and saw them bearing both the Hobbit and the warrior towards the south. Who can know their destination?"

"_We_ can! If we just try!" Merry growled in response. His arms were crossed and his eyes alight with loyalty towards his kin. In that moment Rick really felt for him. He himself had never felt so strongly about anyone in all his years and it troubled him that Merry had lost that.

But the Elf was not so easily won over by demonstration. Bearing down on the Hobbit, tall and proud, Haldir spoke in a hushed way that seemed graver than if he had shouted, "And when we find them, Master Hobbit, what then? When it comes to it, will you face the brute strength of the Orc, the cruel cunning of the Uruk-Kai? For there are many and the fate of those who fail in battle with them is a hard one. Have you the bravery to take up your dagger against such darkness? To go into the enemy's midst knowing each breath may be your last? For this is what faces you if we chase them."

Rick shook his head at the cold way the Elf had acted and opened his mouth to tell him exactly what he had thought of that little speech, but Merry beat him to the punch. Without shrinking back he stood as tall as he could and nodded once, meeting Haldir's gaze cool for cool. "I'm brave enough." There was a little fear in those eyes, but his determination seemed to outweigh, for he did not back down or retract his statement, instead, adding in the tense quiet, "Are you?"

Haldir did not dignify that with a response, but gave the Hobbit an appraising look before turning his attention back on the others. "So be it. We have a choice to make then, for it seems my advice will not be heeded."

"What advice is that?" Rick asked him, cocking his head. He rubbed near a large cut on his arm aggravatedly and waited to see what the Elf would say.

It was Boromir that replied, snorting derisively. "What is always the wisdom of an Elf, but to run home in fear and hide from the troubles of the world?"

"There will come a time, Man of Gondor, when your tongue will carry you too far," Haldir hissed in response. He then ignored Boromir and turned his blue eyes upon Rick. "It is my wisdom that we return to our countries and prepare for the inevitable war that is upon us all, for our quest is in ruins, but as long as the company stands so shall I suffer the pledge of my life to it's cause. This I promise you."

There will still yet one voice Rick had not heard from. He turned towards the Dwarf that sat comfortably against a log, watching the debate with his thoughts behind a mask of an unreadable expression. With his mouth tilted up a little, Rick motioned with his head that Gimli join him and together they walked off, leaving behind a groan of annoyance from the Elf. When they were sufficiently far away, Rick looked down. "What do you think?"

Gimli glanced back at the camp and shrugged. "Either way, it will be a long, dangerous trip, especially with those two."

O'Connell sighed in a long suffering way. "That it will, that it will. That said, I could use some help baby-sitting them. Care to help or...?" He smirked at the Dwarf, who grinned in response.

"I'll not surrender the quest before the Elf does," he said gruffly. "No Dwarf would."

"Yeah, yeah, good," Rick said smoothly, with an ironic smile. "I need a level head. Wanna go save Pippin and Ardeth? It'll be dangerous, of course."

"Of course," the Dwarf agreed quite seriously, picking up on the irony and nodding. "The Elf might get knocked senseless in the fray."

Rick's nodded as well, equally as grave. "We've got bandages somewhere, I'm sure."

"Yes, we do at that, I believe. In one of the bags." Gimli let out a breath and looked back at the waiting group. "Well, that's a sacrifice I'm will to live with. We Dwarves are a strong people."

O'Connell chuckled. "We're agreed then?"

Meeting his eyes, the Dwarf nodded once with a small smile. "Agreed." Neither of them made a move towards the camp. "Quiet over here. I almost don't want to go back and listen to them argue over it."

Scratching the side of his neck, Rick raised his eyebrows and smirked. "I suppose one more sacrifice won't hurt. Even if it means a headache and a need for liquor later on."

Gimli sighed mock-mournfully. "Aye, laddie, aye."

* * *

Some days had passed. Ardeth had lost count, he was so wearied from the rough travel he was forced to endure. The Hobbit, at least, was carried to and fro, but the Orcs left him to his feet and did not stop until they needed rest. Being a desert warrior Ardeth Bay prided himself on physical fitness and endurance, but these monsters seemed to have a strength born out of pure darkness, quick and nearly tireless. The terrible pace tested him sorely, as did hunger and thirst. It had been at least a day since their stop near a small stream, the last drink he and Pippin had been given the freedom to enjoy.

Now sitting with the sleeping Hobbit, wiping a dirty hand over the base of his throat where the small knick from the blade of the Wraith stung him, he reflected that perhaps their ill driven speed was possibly not the only factor at work in why he was so tired. He had talked these foul beings into believing Pippin had been nothing more than a fool believing the lies of an Easterling so that he could preserve his fragile existence, but now he wondered if it would matter at all. There had been no opportunity to escape and spirit the Hobbit away into the night. Assuming the little one trusted enough to allow it. That first night there in the dark forest near the river Ardeth had denounced the Hobbit, the entire company he had followed and since then Pippin had been subdued towards him. Ardeth did not know if he had understood the ruse, but could not do anything now to make it clear. There were always eyes upon them. Always.

He gazed at their benefactors in distaste, watching them argue amongst themselves. They argued about food, always, for even they were starving. More than once had it been suggested that they kill him, but though the lead Uruk did not trust him, he guarded him against that fate for the sake of dragging him before this 'Saruman' they spoke of. One thing was certain. If they completed this journey to it's end and were brought before the White Wizard then he would die and Pippin not long after. The only chance they had was escape.

Ardeth absently tugged at the bonds wound tightly around his wrists, but his eyes were upon a nearby forest where he heard strange noises coming from the dark. The situation wasn't prime for it, certainly, but every day they remained in the company of these foul beings brought them that much closer to ruin. At least in the forest there was a chance of survival. He looked back at the Orcs and saw hungry, glowing eyes resting on him. "I'm tired of this," it hissed, wringing its hands in front of itself. "I want something to eat."

The large Uruk growled low, moving his hand to a great blade at his hip. "We've been over this before."

The one watching Ardeth turned its head slightly. "Maybe I wasn't satisfied with your answer from before."

"Shut up," the Uruk hissed and that was that.

If nothing else, this endless arguing also dragged the Med-Jai warrior down and wearied him. In the desert he was no stranger to worry over his life, but he had to admit seldom did he entertain his previous enemies would devour him alive. The prospect chilled him. His previous battles had, for the most part, been straightforward. Kill or be killed. These Orcs suggested things that made him shudder to think on; things like having his limbs torn off and eaten, leaving him alive afterwards to endure having been maimed. Death he could face, but that he was not so sure of.

The Orcs continued to stir restlessly, most of them still awake, growling amongst themselves about this or that. A small sigh from nearby, almost imperceptible so low it was, betrayed they were not the only ones awake. Ardeth bumped the Hobbit discreetly, not really sure he was going to act, but wanting him ready should the right moment come. Pippin sat up and the Med-Jai looked away, then back again to see two blue eyes on him in puzzlement. Ardeth lifted his head as if in challenge and the Hobbit scooted away distrustfully, backing against a tree where he remained. One of the Orcs snickered.

Ardeth sighed and turned his head outwards, towards the open and it was then he spotted something that caused him to blink. A small movement upon the open expanse before his gaze caught him and he knit his brow, trying to make out the details. Slowly his vision was joined by another perception as the sound of hooves began to enter into his ears. He could see it now. Riders were nearing. But how to use this information, he wondered. He had no way of knowing whether or not these newcomers could be trusted.

Daring another little ruse, he nodded towards the riders and said, "We have company."

Immediately the Uruk self-appointed leader snapped his head to attention, glaring at the procession heading quite obviously straight for them. "Raaaa! Rohan scum!" he shouted, jerking his sword out and readying for battle. "Get up, you lazy slugs! We've got a little fun heading our way!"

The monsters lumbered to their feet, brandishing all manner of terribly shaped blades, some grumbling about having to fight and others grateful for a chance for food. Ardeth backed against the tree where Pippin was resting, watching his foes carefully. He had no idea which one of them had he and Pippin's weapons, could see no sign of them at all. None of the beasts seemed to care for touching the blades wrought by Elvish hands, however, so his guess was either they had been left somewhere or the Uruk had them wrapped up in something. He felt at a loss without a weapon, but recognized the attention spent on he and Pippin waning. It seemed tonight would be the night after all.

The riders came upon the Orcs swiftly, their horses fast and strong, overtaking the creatures. Guttural snarls filled the air, mingling with the shouts of Men. Ardeth drew his legs up and pushed his way to his feet, glancing down at the Hobbit that watched him curiously. "We need to get out of here," he said.

Pippin nodded, his face suddenly alight. It dimmed quickly, his eyes moving beyond the Med-Jai. "Ardeth, look out!"

He turned just in time to stop himself from being skewed by the same Orc that had been so keen on his destruction. He threw himself to the side and dragged Pippin with him, tripping in the process. The Orc skidded to a halt before hitting the tree and looked down with a nasty gleam. "It's time for a little snack," he hissed, holding a dagger high, ready to plunge it downwards.

Ardeth kicked the creature in the abdomen, knocking him backwards long enough for the desert warrior to get to his feet. With a snarl the beast charged back towards him, cutting wildly in rage at having been bested. He managed to evade the first few thrusts towards him, but the third managed to catch him in the arm. Ardeth gasped and jerked away, grasping the wound, feeling blood trickle onto his fingers. The Orc before him looked down in triumph, sniffing at the air like a hungry animal catching the iron scent. "Where's your sword?" it teased, slicing at the air again.

He did not answer, concentrating on winning this battle somehow, though without a blade he felt helpless. As it was he could only dodge and try to disarm his opponent, which was not going to be an easy thing. Ardeth made for the Orc's wrist on the first opportunity, but missed and ended up with a knee catching him in the side and throwing him back to the dirt. He groaned, but knew to move fast lest his enemy gain too much of a chance for attack. He rolled to his back as the Orc scrambled towards the him with its blade drawn, ready to make the kill.

His only defense was to kick out, sweeping the dagger out of the Orc's hands, sending it flying. It growled and hissed, cradling the pained hand and Ardeth took advantage, sending both feet into the Orc's belly and knocking him back into the blade of one of the strange riders, who in turn pressed a booted foot against the squirming monster's shoulder to shove him off the long sword. The Orc fell with a gurgling death, revealing a warrior on a horse above. Ardeth moved to sit up and stopped short when the tip of a sword met his view. "I would take care if I were you, stranger," warned a strong voice.

"Very well," the Med-Jai replied, recognizing he may not have left his enemy in the company of a friend. Easterlings were from a country where darkness ruled, so it seemed, and many may scoff the truth for the lies the Orcs would not believe. Separating his hands, Ardeth sat up comfortably and waited for what would come. These foes would not be bested by a warrior with no sword.

All around the Orcs were dying, taking with them precious few of the Men that dispatched them. The battle was not long, ending with a cry of rage from the Uruk-Kai leader as he fell, grasping in futility at the sword protruding from his gut. Ardeth breathed a sigh of relief that the Men had prevailed, but did not let up his guard quite yet. He watched the warrior that had killed the Uruk bend over and rifle through something on the ground, then remove the two missing Elvish blades belonging to he and the Halfling. His proud, dark eyes swept over the fine steel curiously. "Lord Éomer," called the warrior still standing over the Med-Jai with watchful eyes, "you had better come see these survivors."

The man holding their blades did not look away from them, saying, "There should be no survivors be they servants of the dark." Ardeth tensed and readied himself for more battle.

"My Lord," insisted the rider, finally drawing his lord's gaze down upon the Med-Jai and the Hobbit that hovered nearby.

Lord Éomer met Ardeth's gaze with no immediate friendship. He held the Elvish weapons close and approached quickly, stopping above. For only a moment did he gaze upon Pippin, more cautious with a warrior of his own size. He tilted his head and the pale tale of his helmet slid down his shoulder. "You are of the East," he said with distinct distrust. His brow furrowed over eyes as dark as the midnight that settled across the land. He thrust forward the Elvish blades. "Since when do men of the East craft so delicate weapons?"

Ardeth met him strength for strength, offering the truth. "They were not crafted in the East, but by Elves. Gifts to my friend and myself."

"Elves are now gifting the Haradrim with their weapons?" Éomer concluded with a hard tone.

"I am not of the Haradrim. My company was made of Western Men and some few others on a quest. But we were taken captive." He offered nothing of the details of their quest, but kept an eye on the warrior above him. There was distrust here yes, but Ardeth perceived there may be a small chance at understanding. "I was in the company of a man called Boromir and before that a wizard called Gandalf. There were three other Hobbits with us and a Dwarf and an Elf. Would their names mean anything to you?"

Éomer's eyes glittered in interest. "I know nothing of Dwarves or of Elves. Boromir, you say?" His lips twisted into a smirk. "Trust a son of Denethor to keep such strange company. Yes, I know of him and I know of Gandalf the Grey. A bringer of bad tidings, so say my uncle the King and his," a thread of contempt made its way into his voice, "advisor. But you must tell me what a Hobbit is."

At this Pippin stepped forward, pulling at his bonds. "I am a Hobbit and I would like to be out of these ropes, if you will." He shied away from Éomer's sudden hard gaze. "If it pleases you, that is," he amended and glanced back at Ardeth.

The Med-Jai looked up at the holder of their fates neutrally. "What is it you plan to do with us? Take us to your king? We will go peacefully if it will buy your trust."

Quirking an eyebrow, the Lord Éomer shook his head, seeming to battle his thoughts. It was a hard thing he was being asked and Bay could appreciate that. He thought back to O'Connell in the desert when he had stood brandishing the explosive, warning the Med-Jai away. That had been a hard choice as well. Unfortunately, he did not have the means that O'Connell had to prevent his own death should this warrior decide it must be so. The fair skinned lord looked at Ardeth hard. "I cannot take you to my king. Not now. But neither will I allow you to wander my country freely." The Med-Jai tensed, preparing for battle, but something in the other man's eyes stayed him from making any sudden actions. "Where would your company be now?"

Ardeth shook his head slowly. "We lost them in the south, traveling along the river away from the forests. Whether or not they survived the attack I do not know. The Orcs complained that the rest of their numbers had not rejoined them. It may be that our friends killed them and now continue towards their destination."

"And what destination is that?"

They shared a moment of indecisive silence. Ardeth knew of no lie he could tell, no destination between here and where Frodo had to go that he could cite to protect the nature of what they had been doing. "The quest is not mine and so the destination is not mine to tell," he said truthfully and saw Éomer tense at the words. He lifted his bound hands and would have spread them openly in peace if he could have. "I could have lied, but chose not to, to my own danger. We did not mean to trespass into your lands. Allow us to return to the south and search for our friends."

Lord Éomer narrowed his eyes and Ardeth feared then they would not be freed. The rider's servant still had his sword pointed at him and at an order end this uncertainty, but even still the Med-Jai withheld himself, placing himself uncomfortably at their mercy, hoping it would prove his intentions. Éomer lifted his own sword and brought it before his face for a brief second, then lowered it to his bound wrists. "I think I understand you," he said, slicing carefully through the ropes. "You played a dangerous game, testing me as you have. But you have won my trust--my temporary trust. We will take you to the borders of Rohan and from there you may do as you will." He extended a hand to aid the Med-Jai to his feet. "But know that if you enter into Rohan again I will expect more than a show. It will be your truth or your blood."

* * *

A big thank you to my reviewers. I'm sorry I've been so long at this story. Hehehe. Bad bad me. :-X But I'll try...definitely try. Thank you!


	20. The Messy Rescue

**Bloodlines**  
The Messy Rescue

* * *

"Winston Havlock at your service," said the more than slightly inebriated person before them, who then hiccupped and blinked his eyes a few times before settling them on Legolas' hair. "I say, is this what the young men are doing in London these days? I suppose styles have a way of coming back into fashion, eh?"

Legolas exchanged an amused look with Aragorn, then shook his head. "It may be as you say, good sir. It...keeps the sun off." His Ranger friend grinned at that. Cocking his head back a little, the Elf waited with a mild expression, though his heart raced with anticipation of reaching their destination. They were already long behind the priest's flight, and he knew not how one could chase an evil that moved with the very winds. Still, Jonathan had to have a reason for this delay.

Jonathan nodded good-naturedly. "Yes, yes. All the young men are doing it. Anyways, we were wondering if perhaps you would care to um...offer a little help. You see we have to get somewhere really fast and well, your flying prowess comes second to none, and-"

"Prowess indeed," Havlock laughed, taking a sip from a flask he had brought with him to the Fort where they were all present. "But I'm not in the habit of flying young men around without reason. Your friends aren't criminals, are they? Her Majesty's Royal Air Force can't be bothered with that sort of business."

Carnahan gave a laugh and shook his head. "Criminals? Heavens no. No, see my sister's gone and gotten herself kidnapped by um, let us say a rather unscrupulous sort, you know, dark and evil...criminal, in fact. But he's already got a head start on us."

"There is no one else that can help us," Aragorn added urgently, causing the drunk to look up at him in what appeared to be an attempt at a grave expression. Legolas wondered if his friend really knew that there was no one else, or if he were following Jonathan's lead and embellishing just a bit. It was yet to become apparent just how this strange man _could_, in fact, help.

Winston scratched at his head, jarring the hat upon his brow into an unsightly position. "A criminal, you say? I don't suppose there is a good chance I could die, is there?" The Elf tensed, feeling disappointment well up inside him. He could not allow that this innocent man be led by hidden truths. This Winston Havlock would have to be told of the very real risks involved.

To the surprise of Legolas, Jonathan offered up the truth without blunting it. "Oh, definitely," he answered, nodding vigorously. "_More _than half a chance. More than three quarters, if I understand this criminal right enough." This was taking truth perhaps a bit too far, the Elf thought privately, but couldn't fault Jonathan for telling it.

However, contrary to expectation, Havlock did not shrink away in anxiety. His expression became bright and very agreeable. "Well, why not then? Sounds like a prime opportunity and as a loyal servant of Her Majesty I can hardly refuse a fellow countryman. Come then." The Men of this time were getting stranger to the eyes of this Elf.

With a satisfied smile, Jonathan nodded towards where Havlock was walking (quite off balance, at that) and began to trail after him. Exchanging looks, both Legolas and Aragorn followed, and the Elf sighed softly. "What is it?" his friend asked him quietly.

Legolas looked up at Aragorn gravely. "The race of Men is an old race in these days. They are coming to know the sorrow of Elves I fear, the sorrow that comes from the ages of time. Elves know it in our days, for we live long enough to embrace it. Here it has been bred into their beings through centuries of toil, I think. I see something in their eyes that I understand, though I am not an old Elf by the reckoning of my people."

The Ranger nodded thoughtfully, gazing ahead as Jonathan disappeared behind a gate. "You may be right, but I see hope also. Let us pray it extends over us and over Evelyn."

"Indeed."

They entered into the gate that the other two had disappeared into. Here Legolas saw a great strange something he could not identify. It seemed as an automobile, made of metal and boasting of wheels, but had wings on either side of it. He looked into the face of Jonathan, wondering at the uncomfortable sort of smile he saw reflected back. "Right, well, there's room for Winston in the front sure enough and another seat there in the back," he said a little too cheerfully, running his hand through his hair.

Winston was looking over the device with the same thoughtfulness. "Ah. I have just the thing," he said, then scuttled off to a few boxes nearby. Legolas watched as he dragged all manner of things out of it, tossing them aside until at last he brought out a length of rope and held it up speculatively. Jonathan gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck as Winston approached with it. "There's some goggles in one one of the boxes over there," the old man said, pointing over Jonathan's shoulder. "It'll be a rough ride, but we'll manage. Two of you will have to ride on the wings."

"Wings?" Aragorn repeated, glancing at the craft suspiciously. "What sort of vehicle is this? Are you telling me this will fly?"

Havlock, to his credit, _did _try to respond, but Jonathan cut him off abruptly. "No worries, chaps. It's totally safe. Let's get those goggles, shall we?" He jogged over to where Winston had pointed, rifling through and pulling out some rather odd looking helmets. Again Legolas shared a look with his friend, wondering just what was afoot. A helmet struck his chest and slid down to the sand, and the Elf sighed, picking it up. He frowned at its appearance, watching as one fell into Aragorn's hands. The Ranger pulled it over his head and Legolas grinned, seeing two blue eyes peer at him through two small windows. He pulled his own over his head and Aragorn looked him over critically.

"Well, which of you knows the best way to where we're going?" Havlock asked, still holding the ropes.

"I know the way," Aragorn replied, looking to Jonathan in question.

Their companion paled at the Ranger's claim, pacing a few steps. His expression looked sickened, but took on a resolved expression as he waved his hand. "Right, well, I suppose you would. I know the way, but not that well and you with your..." he waved his hand again, "your skills. All right. Let's get this thing done, shall we? I'll be all right."

Winston shrugged as if it were nothing and motioned Jonathan over to one of the wings. Legolas watched as his friend endured being tied down, the ill expression he wore slow to fade. Had Aragorn been correct? Would they take flight? It seemed unrealistic to believe any being that was neither bird, nor dragon had harnessed the winds for travel, but he did not put it past the Men of this age. When Winston straightened and pointed him towards the other wing, Legolas hesitated. "This is like an automobile?" he asked, eyebrow raised. Part of him hoped Aragorn had been wrong.

Havlock looked rather confused at that, then shrugged again. "Never heard it put quite like that before, but I guess you wouldn't be wrong in saying they're alike in some ways. Are you with us on our merry adventure, then?"

"Yes," Legolas replied, resigning himself to the unknown. "Of course. Aragorn, will you..." He left it hanging, hoping his friend would take the hint and watch that his bindings were secure for whatever strange ride these two were getting him into. He was reassured to see those blue eyes watching every knot and when it was done, he nodded softly. It was comforting...somewhat.

Winston stumbled a bit and motioned Aragorn onto the top of the great steel beast, where he seated himself inside it. The stout little man then laboriously pulled himself up and deposited himself in front of the Ranger. A moment later the vehicle came alive, vibrating beneath him with a strength that made Legolas clutch to the steel beneath his fingers. He shuddered to think that this thing was being driven by someone clouded by ale, and was tempted to tell them to stop, they would find another way. But he remembered Evelyn and felt ashamed of his own fear.

The craft began to move out of the open gate that it was facing towards. It chased the desert floor before them at a decent pace and Legolas felt reassured, casting the last of his nervousness aside.

And then they left the ground.

Nothing, not even a suspicion, could have prepared him for this, and all at once he understood why Jonathan had remained silent, why he had been pale and skittish. It was terrifying, and yet the higher they got the more Legolas found himself unable to tear his eyes off the landscape. His hair whipped around wildly and he was chilled by the rapid winds biting at his body, but there was also a great understanding dawning upon him. This was the way of an eagle. Precious few in his own time rode with the great birds, and all at once he both envied them and appreciated the gift they were given. This was amazing.

But the winds were rough and the flight not as free as that of a bird. Legolas held on to the wing beneath him, conscious that if this drunken man made a mistake it could end in their very deaths. Part of him wished to close his eyes and hide the danger from his vision, but the view captured him and held him in snare. He could only watch and trust that fate would see them through. The gift this risk awarded was a vast swiftness with which they stood a chance to catch up to the dread priest.

Curious, Legolas turned his head to see how Aragorn was faring and saw the Ranger's eyes alight, gazing upon the skies and sands in the same wonder. Jonathan, however, was not doing so well. The Elf could not see him, but he could hear the groans of illness and fear coming from the other side of the craft. He wondered if the Englishman had often allowed himself to be strapped to a wing for fast travel. Was this perhaps a usual method of reaching other places quickly? He could not imagine his father allowing himself to be strapped down and flown like this, nor Lord Elrond or any other Elven Lord, save perhaps the twins of Rivendell. They would enjoy this, Legolas knew without a doubt, with as reckless as they could be.

The moments passed as the winds, quick and untraceable. Before long he marveled as he could see the ruins of Hamunaptra in the distance. He recalled the night he and Aragorn had arrived at this strange place, looking down on it now. But it was different in the light, not as terrible or intimidating in appearance. Yet there was one more distinctive difference. A black dot marred the sandy view below. From their distance he doubted neither Winston, nor Jonathan or even Aragorn could see the figure waiting at Hamunaptra, but the keen vision of the Elves gave Legolas the knowledge of what was to come. A dark form held something in his arms, and the nearer they got, the more the Elf could see it. It was one of the guns he had been shown, long and black. He turned his head quickly and yelled, "There is someone waiting for us! They have a weapon!"

"A weapon, you say?" Winston repeated almost eagerly, making Legolas curl his fingers in tension along the metal beneath his hands. The older man laughed and swooped in for a closer look, cocking his head back to yell at Aragorn, "I say, d'you know how to use that mounted gatling gun back there?"

Legolas looked back and saw his friend already studying the device. The Ranger seemed to waver, but put his hands on the metal nonetheless, feeling along it. He had not fired one of these weapons in all their time here. As Aragorn turned the gun towards the sands a loud crack filled the air, and below Legolas saw a puff of smoke drift from the man on the sand. This was not the priest, but someone with a smaller frame, with a dark mustache and a red hat upon his head. The small figure took aim again, following the craft, waiting for an opportunity. "Aragorn, put your hand on the trigger and squeeze!" he called out.

"And for god sakes, watch your bloody aim!" Jonathan shouted in addition, sounding more than a trifle panicked.

The stranger missed his chance as Aragorn took aim and fired uncertainly, pelting the sand with bullets. They did not hit their target, but did send their foe back among the pillars to hide, shouting at them and waving his arms. Legolas groaned at his own helplessness. If only he could reach his bow! But it was strapped down to his back tightly. He would have privately enjoyed the challenge of firing from this strange vehicle, even as he lamented the barrier between they and Evelyn that this man was causing.

Another storm of bullets met the stones of Hamunaptra's pillars, but did not strike the dodging enemy, for he was as a mouse, swift of feet and skilled at hiding. Their foe peeked from around his chosen spot, aiming once more even as Aragorn mirrored his actions. There was a trade of fire that ended with their enemy jerking back into his hiding spot. "Hold on, laddies," Winston called cheerfully, wheeling their craft around for a better shot. "We'll take him out yet!"

The Ranger said nothing and Legolas shared the silence, hoping they indeed could 'take him out'. Aragorn kept his aim true with the movements of their craft, watching and waiting, and Legolas found his breath held as they circled around. He had lost sight of their foe, who was not in the same spot as he had been. Knitting his brow, the Elf darted his eyes over the site, searching for any hint of him. Footprints littered the sands, going off in all directions and leading him to no single trail.

It did not matter, however, for the man whipped around another pillar, catching sight of them to aim. Aragorn fired and so did their enemy, and Legolas watched as their foe fell back to the ground, vanquished. He turned to give his friend a thankful nod and saw a thing that dashed all fleeting thoughts of victory. Blood trickled down the face of their new, drunken companion from a wound in the middle of his forehead. Winston was indeed dead, just as he had hoped he would be. The craft was not being guided by any means, slowing and soaring forward endlessly. "Aragorn!" Legolas shouted, his eyes wide as he realized this could end very dangerously, if not with the end of their very lives.

The Ranger was already moving, gently pushing their fallen friend aside so he could examine the controls. Legolas could not see or advise, once again helplessly watching and praying his destiny had not brought him here to perish. Gripping something in the front, Aragorn moved his arms and their path altered, sending them swirling to the right. Yet there was a real fear on the Ranger's face, and Legolas knew what it was causing it. They could fly in circles for hours and still be bound to the air, for mastery over the steering did not come with mastery over all this machine's workings. "How do we land?" the Elf heard Aragorn yell above the wind.

"Well, _I don't bloody know!_" Jonathan nearly screeched, his panic escalating. "That's why I hired him to pilot the bloody plane in the first place! We're all going to join him in a moment!"

Legolas rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, trying to imagine a way out of this scenario, when he noticed the plane slowing of it's own volition. The nose dipped towards the sands and he took a sudden, quick breath. "I have a feeling this plane will land without our help!" he called, glancing up at his friend.

"Um, um...pull back!' Jonathan stammered, waving his hand as if it would force the knowledge to come to him. "The wheel, pull back on the wheel! It will bring the nose back up...I think!"

Aragorn took no time to ponder and hope, and obeyed. By the mercy of the Valar the nose of the craft straightened. "Perhaps we can save this situation. If we circle, perhaps we can land more gently!"

Legolas could not see how. The momentum of their descent alarmed him. However they hit the ground he did not think it would be gentle by any definition of the word. He held himself tense, waiting as the endless and yet all too rapid moments melted away. Aragorn guided the plane as best be could with his lack of knowledge, but it was a rocky ride downwards. They each waited for death to come on swift wings, but by some miracle the bottom wheels touched the sands straight. Legolas held his breath, closing his eyes as a splash of the gritty stuff showered over him, then reopened them in time to see one of the walls of Hamunaptra coming towards him. That sand was slowing them quickly, but not quickly enough. "Braces yourselves! I cannot free you in time!" Aragorn hissed and the Elf did just that, covering his head against the imminent impact.

The plane hit the wall a bit hard, but the loss of velocity had given much aid in keeping the impact from being too violent. It rocked backwards a few yards, rolling to a stop some few yards back from it. When he was sure everything was still, Legolas opened his eyes, surprised he _could _open them. His arm pained him and he looked up, seeing the metallic nose of the plane scrunched backwards with all sorts of dangerous new edges and points along the once smooth lines. One of these edges had sliced into his arm. Legolas groaned at the pain of that and the headache that was growing from all the impacts it had taken in the past day, but he was mindful of his friends. "Aragorn?" he called, darting his eyes around the scene. "Jonathan?"

"Here!" called the voice of the first, but from a very different place than the seat of the plane. Legolas glanced up and saw the Ranger stumbling through the sand, pulling his goggles off to let them fall to the ground. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head, sending little grains all around him. "I jumped from it at the last, knowing if I did not it would throw me forward as a horse that stops quick. I do not think I would have been in very good shape should that have happened."

Legolas rolled his eyes and waved Aragorn off. "Check on Jonathan," he said, though he did not relish spending any more time tied down to this thing than he had to.

"I...I'm all right, chaps," their English friend responded as Aragorn closed in on him. He sounded very ill. Removing his sword from his side, Aragorn sliced him free and Jonathan scrambled to the sand where Legolas could see him. He looked up at the Elf with a pale face, giving a friendly little wave.

The Elf glared as Aragorn circled the plane to set him free. "I should kill you for all of this," he said testily, and his friend hesitated in cutting him down. Legolas sighed. "But I shall let someone less compassionate than I attend to that happy duty." His ties were cut and he pulled himself off the wing, making the Englishman scoot back quickly. He threw one last glare at him before drawing the severed edges of his sleeve open to peer at his wounded arm. The long cut stung and traveled deeper than a mere surface wound, but he would not allow it to get in the way of rescuing Evelyn. Checking his weapons, he looked his companions over and said, "We should go inside."

Jonathan and Aragorn both nodded their agreement and readied themselves for the battle before them. They followed the Elf towards the opening to the dark city and the three of them entered warily, listening with careful ears and watching with cautious eyes for any sign of the deadly priest. Or Evelyn. Legolas kept mindful of any sign of her passing, any scrap from torn clothing or footsteps in the dust, but there was nothing to betray where Imhotep had dragged her off to. Inside Hamunaptra the torches were burning in all directions. The Elf drew his bow and heard his friends draw their weapons as well, for what good they would do them.

"Do you recall the way through this maze of darkness?" Legolas asked his companions.

The Englishman snorted. "Hell if I know. The last time I was here I was pretty well trying to concentrate on getting _out_, not deeper inside.

Aragorn shook his head, likewise as lost. "'Twas dark when we came, and disorienting. I could not guess where the creature may have taken her."

"Then we must be cautious and silent." The Elf chose a path at random, pointing into a dim hallway. "It has an ill feel to it."

"This whole bloody place has an ill feel to it," Jonathan grumbled as they crept down the hall. He gasped softly and stopped short as a spider dropped from a web right in front of him. "That's always a good sign, isn't it?"

The Elf grunted and kept moving. "You should see the ones near my home."

Torches were few and far between down this path, giving them little light to travel by and they wended their way through the turns and twists. It was both a blessing and a curse. "I have a bad feeling about this," Jonathan murmured as they came to another intersection. Legolas stopped and Jonathan rammed into him, nearly causing him to topple over. Murmuring an apology, he pushed away and glanced over the Elf's shoulder, then stopped short as well. "And now I feel much worse." There was a large beetle on the ground, twitching and watching them speculatively. "Aragorn, old boy?"

"Yes?" the Ranger replied, uncertain at the tension in the air.

"Kill that thing. Now."

The sound of Aragorn's sword coming down upon the bug was unpleasant at best. Legolas turned his head to glance at their friend. "You do not like bugs?"

The Englishman shrugged thoughtfully. "Not ones that bring friends and mass over a man, eating him whole." He grinned at the Elf's expression. "I know. It just keeps getting a little bit more fun as each moment passes."

"Fun is not the word I would use to describe it," Legolas replied ironically. He was no stranger to the forces of darkness turning the innocence of nature against the forces of good.

Nodding his agreement, Jonathan motioned them onwards, saying, "Yes, well, if you would like to avoid meeting any more of those things, I suggest we get out of here before there's no other choice. Just do me a favor and don't ever say anything about how this situation could be worse."

Aragorn raised his eyebrow at him, stepping in beside him as they continued on. "Why is that?" he asked curiously.

"Because it almost always guarantees things _will get _worse." They came to an entry into a large room, shining much brighter than anywhere else they had been. They stopped at the top of a set of stairs leading down into a sea of gold. "Whereas the warning of such seems to have the opposite effect. Would you look at all that?"

They didn't get the chance to take it all in. Jonathan yowled and hurled himself away, and his two companions turned to see his attacker. It was dark, decaying, and hideous. Legolas notched an arrow to his bow, drew it back, and shot at the bandaged figure shuffling towards Aragorn. His arrow sliced into the hanging flesh, but had no other effect. "I think your logic is flawed," he commented, notching another arrow.

Jonathan held up his gun, but didn't look very hopeful. "Yes, well, I'll never make that mistake again."

The Ranger drew his sword and sliced at the creature before him, even as another came shifting out of the shadows, followed by another. "Do either of you have any ideas?" he asked, defending against one as another grabbed for his shirt and tried to jerk him back.

Legolas moved to sling his bow behind his back, but Jonathan stopped him. "Both of you follow me. I have an idea."

* * *

**Dislclaimer:** No infringement intended. Idn't that awesome?  
**Author**: Ruse - angelruseATgmailDOTcom  
**Notes:** Well, just thought I'd add a bit more, inspired by Marcher's sticking with her story. (Captain of His Soul, you can find her in my reviews if you want to read her Mummy stories). Enjoy!


	21. The Choice Is Yours

**Bloodlines  
**The Choice Is Yours

* * *

A questioned burned upon the mind of Aragorn as he watched Jonathan dart down another dark turn of the hallway in this city of shadows and ill fate. The Englishman had shouted something of a plan, but had yet to inform his two companions of just what it was he had in mind. Aragorn was very curios therefore, understandably so, as creatures that made having some sort of idea of what to do about this situation essential were following them. It was these creatures that kept Aragorn from unburdening himself, however. It was very difficult to ask questions when you were fighting continually.

Legolas fought at his side, and together they managed to keep an eye on which way their companion was leading them while at the same time having to hold the forces of darkness at bay. The Elf had taken to using his blades after Jonathan and asked him to 'easy up' on the arrows and save them for later. It was a good thing, too, for his bow would do no good against the foe that burst from the wall in the instant of Aragorn's wonderings. It clambered from the fallen bricks, throwing itself at the Elf without tact or care. Legolas was knocked back momentarily, but managed to use his ready weapons to slice the fragile head right from the mummy's body. The dismembered part fell to the floor with a hiss, only to be trampled by another creature that was racing forward, shoving the body into a clattering pile to the right. The newcomer had a vile expression on its face, as if it cared for its fallen brethren.

"Have you come to test your anger against my steel?" Legolas growled, slicing at an outstretched arm. The hand flew into the air, and as the creature scrambled to catch it, the Elf threw a kick that knocked it onto its back. The creature hurled its severed hand angrily.

Legolas dodged, and a groan ahead of them suggested that it hadn't gone without hitting a target. Aragorn looked over his shoulder. Rubbing the back of his head, Jonathan yelled, "Don't ask them bloody questions!"

"Yes," the Elf readily agreed, jerking away as Aragorn cut down another one of them. "Jonathan? Now would be a good time to act upon your plan!"

"Almost there, my good fellows," the Englishman replied, sounding a little less that certain. "Almost there."

Aragorn chose not to comment at this time, but much more of this and he was going to have to think of something himself. What that would be, he did not know, for these creatures seemed unstoppable. Even those that were cut down seemed to crawl after them; hands dragging towards the direction even without eyes to direct them, and half-mummies that groaned with every pull. Aragorn had knocked one of their heads loose and sent it spinning, yet still it came, head backwards, intent on their demise.

And suddenly Jonathan screeched, "JUMP!" Aragorn felt a hand urging him by the shoulder, and though he had scarcely enough time to turn and understand his surroundings, he did as Jonathan bid. He nearly lost his momentum when he realized just _why_ they had jumped.

The ground left Aragorn's feet, trailing down a sudden drop that was untold depths down. The trio came crashing onto a landing below and Aragorn fell flat on his stomach, hands outstretched to keep his face from hitting the stone. Beside him Jonathan was struggling to keep his own balance, stumbling precariously near the edge of the narrow walkway. Legolas alone landed on sure feet, and he aided Jonathan in regaining his footing. Jerking his head to the side to see whether or not they had been followed, Aragorn threw his gaze upwards and saw a single creature flailing on the edge above them.

And suddenly it went flying. Two others slammed into its back, sending it into the air with no hope of recovery. The trio watched as it sailed over them, then down into the pits below. The two others were grabbing at each other for balance, even as they collapsed and slid from the landing above. The next one that followed was smart and jumped, landing on Aragorn as he tried to stand. Legolas grabbed it by the shoulders and gave a harsh tug, hurling it over the side. Only Jonathan's arms around his waist kept him from falling in after it. Another creature jumped, aiming at Jonathan to take him down into the pits below, but the Englishman sidestepped just in time to let it fall over the edge on its own.

Rubbing his chest as if it pained him, he let out an expansive breath and reached out a hand to aid the Ranger to his feet. "I say, right good show, but I've had enough. I hope that's all of them."

"It would be best to not leave that to chance," Legolas replied, looking up.

Aragorn followed his gaze and saw a hand with no body attached, its fingers tapping along the edge of the floor above as if it were considering its options. "Let us hope that is what is left of our friends. Lead the way, Jonathan."

"Right," the Englishman breathed, scratching his head and looking around. Just when Aragorn was about to ask what he had in mind, if anything, he leapt across the void to a stone bridge that lead into a darkened hall. Legolas leapt after him, and Aragorn followed smoothly. Pointing towards the darkness ahead of them, Jonathan smiled and said, "Um, Elf eyes might be better at taking us through there, since I haven't got a bloody idea where it leads to anyway. What do you say, partner?"

With a grunt the Elf nodded and held his blades in the defensive. Aragorn could hear no sounds of pursuit, but that did not mean they were out of danger yet. It was a slow endeavor, for they dared not alert the forces of the dark priest to their coming by making haste. Both Jonathan and Aragorn grasped the Elf's shirt for guidance as they were bathed in black that seemed it would not end.

But end it did. It did not take long for the sounds to filter into the Ranger's hearing, though Legolas would have heard it much earlier and known where to follow that they find the source. A dark chant echoed along the hall, undead voices lifted in some sort of black tone of reverence. The Priest of Osiris drowned them back, filling the air with rich, commanding words that were sharp to the ear. Light broke the darkness around a corner, and when they crept into it they saw they were on a landing overlooking a great room filled with pillars, dust and decay. In the center lay a pool, and beyond that their target. Evelyn was chained to an altar and beside her lay a figure wrapped in tattered cloth. Imhotep stood above her, his fingers caressing the black bound book that he was reading from. Flames made shadows dance around the room. It was an unwholesome sight.

And then suddenly Imhotep's voice stopped. The dead priests that Aragorn could now see surrounding the altar on their knees ended their chants and waited, heads bowed to the sand below. The dread priest shut the black Book of the Dead, locked it and set it down before him. Leaning both hands on the altar, he brought his gaze up into the shadowy space where they were hiding. His eyes were both amused and angered as he spoke words in his black tongue, then nudged Evy to translate.

Evelyn followed his gaze, seeking them in the darkness, murmuring, "Oh dear," as she did so. "Jonathan? Aragorn? Legolas? Are you three there? He says he knows you are. He isn't very happy, though I can tell you _I'm_ really rather relieved and quite afraid at the moment as well."

The three exchanged worried glances. "We should not give away our number," Legolas whispered, using scarcely more than a breath.

Evy gasped and Aragorn darted his gaze down. The Priest of Osiris had a black dagger at her throat, and by the look of it seemed to be pressing it into her flesh just enough to get his point across. The Ranger looked at his friends. "I will go. You two stay here."

Legolas looked ready to argue, but was silenced by Aragorn's resolve. Shaking his head, Jonathan echoed the Elf's thoughts. "Maybe, maybe it should be me, you know? I understand the language, and she's my sister after all."

The Ranger drew his sword up. "You, my friend, will be needed to show the way back into Cairo. Evelyn will be tired after this ordeal, and will need your support. I will see what it is the creature wants."

"You will not be without cover," Legolas said, drawing his bow and notching an arrow. Be careful, mellon nín." Jonathan started wrapping a ripped up cloth around the shaft, just above the tip of the arrow.

"One wrong move from old Immy down there, and I'll light this on fire. We'll see how our friend takes to getting burned, shall we?" The Englishman gave a wan grin.

Aragorn nodded his appreciation, then turned and descended the stairs. Imhotep watched his every move, sparing only a few glances towards the top where Legolas and Jonathan were waiting. Slinking his hand beneath the chains binding Evy to the altar, he jerked roughly, pulling her free. Evelyn gasped loudly at being thrust into a sitting position so suddenly. Her eyes fell on him and she shook her head softly. "Oh Aragorn, no."

"What does he want, Evelyn?" he asked, never taking his eyes from the mummy's.

She spoke timidly, and Imhotep responded in an even, commanding tone. Evy bit her bottom lip a moment, then turned to translate. "He said he would treat with you."

"I am listening."

Evelyn gave his response to the dark being at her side. Imhotep lifted his chin and responded at length. His hands toyed with the chains that led up to Evy's wrists, and his eyes bore into Aragorn as if he were daring him to interrupt with some sort of attempt to rescue her. Quite suddenly Evelyn looked very ill. She hesitated to repeat whatever it was that the priest had told her until he barked a threat, jerking on her chain. Evy turned towards Aragorn once more. "He said he would trade my life for yours. He would use you to awaken…awaken _her_," she nodded towards the figure on the altar, "and he would let me go free. Don't do it, Aragorn. I couldn't ask that of you. He will destroy everything regardless."

He needed to stall for time, but could think of few ways to do it that would cause the creature to attack. And then a question came to him. Perhaps there was no reason, other than that the creature was toying with them, but it would buy him seconds to plan. "Why use me? Why should he care to make such a bargain, when the sacrifice of either of us could awaken the woman?"

"I do hope you won't mind if I leave that last line out," she commented, then spoke with the dread priest. He responded with a cunning smile and amused words.

Evelyn looked back at Aragorn. "He said the dead whisper you have the blood of Elves in you. He also says time is running our. He wants you to make a choice, or he'll kill us all."

* * *

"I don't know who is worse, Éomer. You or the blasted Elf."

Ardeth had lost track of how many times Boromir had said something derisive towards their so-called host. Around noon of this very day that the Rohirrim warriors, escorting Ardeth and Pippin to the North, sighted a party of strange companions heading into the country of the horses. From this meeting Lord Éomer received the truth of the matter of who Ardeth and his small companion were, and the two weary members of the broken Fellowship were reunited with the remaining few of their party. Now it was evening and they were no closer to a solution as to what should be done now. The camp of Men waited as their leader argued heatedly with the auburn-headed Lord of Gondor tried to commission the aid of the Rohirrim to see them catch up with Frodo and Sam. The Elf was against this, keeping true to his counsel of each retreating to his own kind to prepare for war.

Éomer would not commit to either choice. He had revealed his banished state, illustrating that it would be difficult for him to warn a kingdom of war when said country did not welcome him with open arms. It was his plan to go and confront the source of his ire directly. Éomer wanted to go to the place called Isengard, where he would confront the power that held sway over the King of Rohan. It was Gondor that should come to the aid of Rohan, if there be any friendship between them. Haldir argued with this heatedly. He claimed against such odds Éomer would be throwing his own life and the lives of his men away for nothing.

As for the two strangers to this world, Rick and Ardeth did not intrude upon the fight. They remained apart from the group, with the Hobbits and the Dwarf. O'Connell said that whatever they chose, he and the rest of them would make their own fate if needed. He wasn't sure which way to go now that everyone was accounted for, assuming the Ringbearer and his friend were safe on their way to Mordor, but he was not willing to stand aside and do nothing as the people of these countries went to war for their very existence.

Ardeth felt much the same way. His heart yearned for the desert sands, but he could see some part of him bidding farewell to that way of life. Not that he would ever forget. No, he would always remember the ways of his people. Yet to go on living would require that he accept that which he could not change and embrace something new, or else lose completely the meaning of his life; first and foremost to be a warrior for God, a Med-Jai through and through, even if he could not protect his own. But who would it be that he would offer his aid to? Should they side with Boromir and seek the Ringbearer, or failing that end up on the frontlines of the battle in Minas Tirith? Or should he offer his sword to Éomer and conquer this dark wizard that was controlling the horse country? Or would Haldir accept their aid for the sake of the Elves? The Med-Jai pondered these things silently. He could see in Rick's eyes that he was doing the same.

The Dwarf chewed on the end of a pipe in his mouth, glaring out across the horizon. He grunted and looked up at O'Connell. "I say we slip away quietly and leave these _sophisticated _folk to their amusements." That statement was not without a degree of cynicism. "The war will be done and over, and we'll be licking the boots of Sauron before they get around to making a choice."

"But where would we slip off? That's the question. I wouldn't mind finding a nice little place to settle down and find a girl, but I think the Orcs have the same idea and they're a lot bigger than we are." O'Connell smirked.

Gimli chuckled and pointed his pipe. "I'd suggest you settle down with my kin, but I'm not sure there's a single, self-respecting Dwarven lass that would have anything to do with you. No offense, of course."

The American made a face, then waved off the Dwarf's words. "That's life for you. Rejected by women of other species than my own. I've come a long way from the ruggedly handsome, irresistible ladies' man I was." He painted a mocking modest expression across his features, then turned his eyes on Ardeth. "What about you?"

"I am not sure the Dwarven women would find me any more suitable," the Med-Jai replied with a soft smile. "But I will try anything once." That got a much needed laugh out of his two companions. Which brought to his attention that there _were _only two companions there. Ardeth glanced around, then pointed off towards a nearby patch of forest. "I believe our Hobbit friends have decided to take your advice, Gimli, and slip away unseen."

Over beneath the trees they saw the Hobbits kicking rocks and talking as they edged deeper and deeper into the woods. A low rumble came from behind Gimli's lips. "They're going into Fangorn," he growled. "There's no telling what dangers they may find in there."

"Danger, huh?" Rick murmured, dusting his hands off on his pants. "Sounds like fun. Coming?"

The Dwarf waved him off, looking as though he would rather remain where he sat and listen to the arguing for eternity rather than enter into Fangorn Forest. As O'Connell stood up, so did Ardeth, however. He felt the need to be moving, as he guessed was his American counterpart. So caught up in the heat of their bickering, none of the Rohirrim noticed as they strayed off towards the forest.

Trees loomed overhead, obscuring much of the night sky as they crept into the very beginnings of Fangorn. There seemed to be a quiet, yet deadly whispering of possibilities that could only be perceived by a wary warrior treading with careful attention on his surroundings. There was danger here, yes. But was this danger of an evil source, or something else? They had spoken of the white wizard, wandering and felling the unwary traveler that came too near to these premises.

Side by side, Ardeth and Rick followed the echo of the Hobbits' voices, which filled their ears with small talk and laughter. The Med-Jai had much the same idea in mind. Now that these two strangers with a strange kinship were alone, he felt freer to speak what was on his mind. O'Connell did not seem in a hurry to find the Hobbits and return to camp right away, so Ardeth spoke up. "What do you think we should do?" he asked, though he recognized now he already had a decision mind. Would O'Connell make the same one?

The American ran his fingers through his hair and kicked a stone from his path. He shrugged a little, seeming to war with the choices this world presented him. "Hell," he said finally, looking up at Ardeth, "I don't know. Back home I would probably be on my way to somewhere else right about now, away from the trouble. But I guess at heart I must be a sucker."

"A sucker?" Ardeth repeated, raising an eyebrow.

O'Connell laughed, nodding his head. "'Cause I don't feel like running away just yet. I don't know where the hell we are, really. I don't know if what they said was true, if I'm really some sort of descendant of this place. But I feel like I should keep going right now."

"Keep fighting?"

He nodded. "That's what I do best, after all." He gave the gun at his hip a fond pat, then looked ahead of them.

Ardeth turned his eyes on the crude path they walked, beginning to notice something. It was quiet. No more voices trailed back to lead them towards their companions. The Med-Jai knocked O'Connell's arm with his elbow, then motioned towards the expanse of forest before them. When it dawned on Rick what he was hinting at, the ex-Legionnaire cursed. He looked ready to call out to them, but Ardeth stalled him with a hand to his arm. "Wait. The Dwarf said there would be danger."

"Well, we came looking for fun," Rick muttered, glancing around with a flat look on his face. He pointed off into the trees towards a change in the shadows. It was barely visible, an aura of light that was nearly smothered completely by the dark, but the trained eye could see the difference. "Looks like something to follow."

Agreeing silently, the Med-Jai took stride with his companion. They trailed after the light and as they walked, it grew in intensity, shining beyond the trees as beams of moonlight by the time they drew near to its source. There seemed to be a sound, too, that Ardeth could faintly discern. It was as if the forest itself breathed long, deep exhales that sent vibrations into the very ground. And then that exhale was given voice. Whispering, yet astonishingly loud, a voice said in dubious tones that lingered on each word, "They do not seem dangerous to me, but how small are Orcs! And they carry with them the power to murder whole forests."

"We're quite a little bit smaller than Orcs, if you please," replied Merry in a startled voice. "And I promise we don't have the power to murder a sapling, much less a forest such as this one!"

"Sounds like trouble," O'Connell breathed, putting his hand on his blade.

Together he and Ardeth steeled themselves, then rushed through the brush as a voice laughed, "Have no worries, my friend. These two are no Orcs."

Light, pure and white, filled the Med-Jai's eyes. He blinked, and held his hand over his eyes. Tentatively, he peered through his fingers and saw that those before him had all frozen, staring at he and the American. Merry and Pippin were together, standing protectively beside one another. Near them sat a figure that gave off the strong light they had followed. He was perched upon a large boulder, watching them with intense blue eyes. Eyes that Ardeth recognized. Stunned, he opened his mouth to speak, but a great creaking coming from the direction of the Hobbits caught his attention. Distracted by a great motion, both Ardeth and Rick turned towards the sound.

There above the two Hobbits, at first unseen because it blended so well within its surroundings, a form that had been crouching to inspect the two little strangers was now raising to full height. Two golden eyes were fixed upon the newest intruders, and as this strange being slowly twisted its bark-covered head to the side, its expression grew stern. It was alarming to see.

"Whoa!" Rick hissed, jumping back and raising his blade. As if it would do any good. This being stood as tall as a tree. It _was _a tree, as near as Ardeth could see. A glance at O'Connell revealed those blue eyes widened and rattled in a way Ardeth had never seen. The Med-Jai knew exactly what his friend must have been feeling. Rick stammered, "Do you see...?"

"Yes," Ardeth breathed, swallowing as he turned his eyes on the tree.

"Do you know what to...?"

He shook his head. "No."

Rick nodded once, subdued. "Okay."

"Have a care. Do nothing rash," intervened the man robed in white, also rising to full height. Whether or not he was speaking to the tree or the two companions, he did not know.

Confirming that it was, in fact, sentient and more than capable of speaking, the tree boomed, "Long years has it been since the woods of Fangorn have been so invaded without retort. Hrrrrr, who is it you have invited here, Gandalf?"

Rick's head whipped in the direction of their long lost companion. "My God, it _is_ you. Talking trees and resurrections, now I've seen it all. What's going on here?"

Smiling a quiet, amused smile, Gandalf gathered his staff to him and approached earnestly. "There is much going on, both here and elsewhere. Much that requires our attention. And you have not seen all, my friends. But you shall."

The ex-Legionnaire sheathed his blade. "Why does that not sound comforting?"

"Very little in this life is," Gandalf replied gravely. He put his hand on Rick's shoulder. "But hope stretches a long way past comfort."

"Question. Is that tree going to ah, let me put this delicately, without giving it any ideas..."

The tree rumbled and creaked, balling what looked like a hand into a fist. "Tree?"

The wizard glanced at Rick. "I would advise you against calling him that. Treebeard, my friend. These are the ones I spoke of. They are here to help. They can be trusted."

Treebeard seemed to relax at that. "As you say, Master Gandalf. I will gather the Ents, hrrarroom."

"I have one more favor to beg of you, Treebeard," Gandalf called, just as the creature began towards the darkness of the woods. Ardeth watch it turn back, still amazed by what he was seeing. The way Treebeard moved was lumbering, slow, but eerie. The Med-Jai had little doubt this creature could be as lethal as his imposing figure suggested. Gandalf was motioning to the Hobbits when Ardeth turned his attention back. "These two are not going to go where we go. I would have them kept out of the dire trouble that awaits us."

Merry shook his head, not understanding. "Not go with you? Gandalf..."

Raising his hand, Gandalf silenced the halfling. His eyes were still upon Treebeard. "Would you see them to safety?"

The Ent tilted its head in thought. At length, it deliberated uncertainly, but agreed just when Ardeth thought it had forgotten it had been asked. "I will do as you ask. I will keep them out of harm's way, if I can."

Pippin shook his head, taking a step nearer to Gandalf. "We want to go with you!" he called, but before he could say another word, he was swept up in a large, brown hand. His cousin was likewise taken up into the air, struggling and protesting.

Gandalf waved and watched, calling, "Do not worry, my young friends. Adventure still awaits you!"

"But Gandalf!" Merry cried, and then they were gone. Heavy footsteps crashed further and further away from them, bearing the Hobbits towards the unknown.

Rick looked after them. "Remind me never to disagree with you," he said to Gandalf, turning back with a grin. "How did you manage to survive that fall?"

The wizard inclined his head once with a look that held wisdom and promised more. "I will reveal all, have no fear. But I have returned with understanding of your coming, Rick O'Connell. And to you I must now offer this choice. Will you stay for the sake of Middle-Earth, risk remaining here forever, to bring glory to the blood of your line? Or would you choose the next moment to leave us and return to your own time. I make no guarantee that either life would suit you. The choice is yours."

* * *

_I did it! I did it! I said that I would do it, and indeed I did. I thought that I would rue it; I doubted I'd do it. But now I must admit it, that succeed I did._

Hehehe. Yes, my friends. You'll shoot me. But I'm ending it here. Why? Because I feel the possibilities are enough that leaving the question of what happened next would be more effective. That way we imagine, what if Rick chooses to stay in Middle-Earth? What if Aragorn gives himself for Evy? What if Obi-Wan Kenobi drops from the sky and saves them all? ;-) I know it seems like a cop out, but I was torn as to what to do. This way we all decide what happens next.

THANK YOU! Everyone for their thoughts and interest in this story. :-D


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